Amy Potter is Batgirl!
by Philosophize
Summary: Amy "don't call me Amaryllis" Potter never went to Hogwarts, but the Goblet of Fire makes her a compelled competitor in the Triwizard Tournament. Will three years of tutelage by the Dynamic Duo see her through the treacherous tasks? Will being Batgirl help her beat the villainous Voldemort? And what's with that bewitching yet bothersome, bushy-haired bookworm? Tune in to find out!
1. Gotham Lost and Found

**A/N:** This is a crossover between Harry Potter and Batman, but with a twist: it's the 1966 Batman TV show. I bring in a few elements from later incarnations of Batman (including nods to Frank Miller), mostly to provide a bit more depth to the story and characters, but at their heart Batman and Robin are still being played by Adam West and Burt Ward in all their campy goodness. On the whole, it is AU - **very** AU. So don't worry about things like the fact that this Batman was around in the 60s while Harry Potter took place, in the 90s, OK?

Oh, and in case you didn't figure it out already, this is a FemHarry story, with the part of Amy Potter being played by a very young Yvonne Craig (with red hair and green eyes, naturally).

Over the course of this story you will find a few lines of dialogue lifted and adapted from the original TV show. They are probably the most outrageous and over-the-top lines you'll encounter, in fact, and that's the main reason why they are being used. Aside from being so fitting, I don't want anyone to accuse me of being more outrageous than the original!

The cover image is a cropped version of a much larger original entitled "Batgirl of Burnside" by chou-roninx, who graciously gave me permission to use it here. More information can be found on my profile, and I recommend going to see the original on DeviantArt.

This is my first attempt at writing a story in first person perspective. Aside from the fact that I think that this style is better for this story, I also wanted to develop my skills using first person for the sake of an original novel that I've started to develop. So please, do tell me what you think.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Poisoned Hearts" by Whitetigerwolf. HP/Batman crossover. The criminal widely known as Poison Ivy wasn't originally born Pamela Isley, she was born Pamela Potter. Years earlier she fled magical Britain and sought refuge in the muggle world, eventually settling down near Gotham City, but now it looks like her past is about to catch up to her. Oh, and she has a tiny little crush on Batgirl, too.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 01 - Gotham Lost and Found**

 **Early November, 1994.**

I eased my Batcycle into its corner, cut the engine, and heaved a long sigh of relief that the latest mission was finally over. All I wanted to do was take an extended soak in a hot bath to ease my sore muscles, maybe with some lavender bath oil and soft background music, but I knew that wouldn't be possible until much later. In the meantime, I didn't dare let on how much I ached, or how much I just wanted to curl up and sleep.

Over in the center of the Bat Cave, Robin was talking loudly enough for me to overhear as he leapt out of the Batmobile.

"I can't believe Mr. Freeze thought he could actually get away with trying the same thing again!"

"Hope springs eternal, Robin, even for those who frequent the seedy underbelly of our great society," Batman asserted dramatically. "Viktor Fries is just as human as the next master criminal, after all."

"Gosh, I guess you're right, Batman," Robin responded, sounding thoroughly chastened, but I just rolled my eyes. Fortunately the adjustments I'd made to my cowl usually hid that sort of thing. Early on, I'd get lectured at least once a mission about the importance of taking our work seriously. It's not that I ever disagreed with the things Batman said while we were out on cases (at least not most of the time), because he was usually right; but why did he have to be so conspicuously and pompously didactic about it?

I've since realized that he does it on purpose, too — it's not some unconscious verbal tic, and he doesn't talk like that all the time. I tried to ask him about it more than once, but he always just gave me that annoying, knowing smile and politely inquired if I'd finished my homework, then proceeded to deliver some lofty pronouncement about why this or that subject was so important.

Which of course always led to more eye-rolling and more lectures. Rinse and repeat.

It isn't easy being Batgirl, youngest sidekick to Batman. It's almost as hard as being Amy Potter, the youngest ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne.

I should know — I'm both.

"Hey, are you OK?" Robin asked me, pulling me out of my distracted musings. After a moment, I realized that he must have noticed I was dismounting my Batcycle a bit more gingerly than usual. I had hoped I'd be able to hide how sore and bruised I was, but I should have remembered that Robin has sharp eyes and rarely misses a thing, especially where I'm concerned.

"I think I strained something when I did a shoulder throw on one of them," I answered with a casual air as I twisted and stretched a little, trying to give the impression that my problems were strictly superficial. If he or Batman thought for even a minute that I couldn't handle this, they'd pull me from the field and stick me right back into training. I'd worked too hard and for too long to let that happen.

I was going to make them proud of me, even if it killed me.

"Was it Goon #3 or Goon #4?"

"I think it was Goon #3, but I always have trouble telling those two apart," I said as we walked to the Bat-Poles.

"Yeah, I thought he had put on a bit of weight," Robin said with a slight smirk.

"Now, now," Batman chided. "There's no call to start gossiping like a bunch of... uh... teenage girls," he finished lamely, realizing his error too late. He actually quailed slightly under my glare, making me glad that I'd been practicing in the mirror. He usually knew when he'd gone too far and never chastised me for making my displeasure known. Quite the contrary, in fact: he began treating me with more respect once I started standing up for myself, which is one of the many reasons why I respect him in return.

Eye-rolling notwithstanding.

"Sorry, Batgirl," he added quickly before hopping onto his pad and rocketing up into Wayne Manor.

Robin chuckled sympathetically. "It's been over a year, and he _still_ isn't used to you working with us full-time." He shook his head, then abruptly clapped his hands together and said, "Come on, I think Alfred was going to make cookies!"

He ran the short distance to the poles with me just a couple of steps behind, smiling at my pseudo-sibling's enthusiasm. I'd had to train with him daily for two long, hard years before they let me join them on real missions, and they still wouldn't let me go solo. Many underestimate Robin because of his boyish looks and attitude, with some going so far as to call him the "Boy Blunder." I quickly discovered, though, how ruthless he could be on the mat, whether it was teaching me hand-to-hand, the bo staff, or batons. He'd have me sweating, panting, and bruised all over every time, without the slightest hint of sympathy in his eyes.

There's a reason why he can take on several large, full-grown men at once and beat them to a pulp without suffering a single injury himself.

Some days, like when Robin decided to hold back a little less and I fared a lot worse, the aroma of Alfred's baking would waft in at some point, causing Dick to act more like a kid than me in his eagerness to finish. I would limp into the kitchen a few minutes behind him, obviously happy for the respite, and I'd catch something in Alfred's eyes that made me think he'd been baking specifically to give me a break.

He'd never admit to it, of course. But then, he didn't have to.

* * *

When the two of us arrived in the library, we found Alfred waiting with a very concerned expression instead of the plate of gooey, baked goodness we'd been expecting. "Ah, good, you're here," he said. "I was just informing Master Bruce that we have three visitors who are most insistent on seeing you. Well, one of you in particular." The last was said with a meaningful look in my direction, making me feel unexpectedly self-conscious.

Me? What had I done now?

"Wearing robes and other bizarre fashion, I take it?" Bruce asked. Apparently the Great Detective had caught on to the true nature of the visitors before I did.

"Indeed, sir."

"And after all this time... I'd hoped that after not hearing anything by her eleventh birthday, we wouldn't have to worry about this." Bruce said.

"That's what I had hoped as well, sir," Alfred answered, "but I get the impression that something very serious has happened."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Bruce concluded, then he looked at me and Dick. "I feared that this day might come — that they'd come looking for you, Amy, even though you're a squib rather than a full witch. I took what small measures I could to prevent it, but I knew that they might not be enough. We don't know what they want with you, and we shouldn't just automatically trust them. Do you two remember the drill? Don't look them in the eyes. Say as little as possible. We've never heard of magic. And—"

"And we don't know anything about Amaryllis Potter being the Girl Who Lived," Dick finished for him.

"Don't call me Amaryllis!" I growled as I punched him in the shoulder. "It's **Amy**."

"I know, I know — sorry. Sheesh!" Dick said as he rubbed his shoulder. Privately, I hoped it bruised like it did last time.

"Settle down, you two," Bruce said, smoothly separating us to either side of him as he began guiding us to the sitting room. "We have wizards and witches to impress before we send them packing!"

"After dealing with Mr. Freeze, it should be a piece of cake," Dick said confidently. Perhaps too confidently. It occurred to me that Halloween had been just two days ago, and I'd never had a good relationship with Halloween. It was the day my parents were murdered, and ever since then something bad tended to happen on that day. When I was five, I lost my favorite doll and never found her again. When I was eight, I broke my arm in three places after falling out of a tree.

Whatever was serious enough to suddenly bring wizards and witches to stately Wayne Manor so close to Halloween, it couldn't bode well for me.

* * *

Even knowing what to expect, I couldn't stop myself from gaping at the three characters who were waiting for us in the main sitting room, which earned me a pointed look from Bruce before I schooled my expression into one of politeness as my long-suffering etiquette tutors had tried to teach me.

The first to greet us was an ancient-looking man with a pointed hat, a beard down to his knees (tucked into his belt!), and a garishly colored bathrobe that looked like it had moving stars and moons. Next to him was a fairly old woman with a similarly pointed hat and a dress that had to be from the Victorian era. Standing back in the corner was a halfway normal-looking man, though the very sour expression on his face, combined with the Hitler moustache, wasn't promising.

"Good afternoon," the ancient-looking man said as we approached him. "My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Pleased to meet you," Bruce said without missing a beat, shaking the other man's hand. "I'm billionaire Bruce Wayne. This is my youthful ward, Dick Grayson, and my even more youthful ward, Amy Potter."

Dumbledore fixed me with a curious expression before saying, "Ah, Amaryllis Potter. The reason for our visit here today in your stately home." I tried not to scowl at the use of my full name as I resolutely focused on his nose rather than meeting his gaze, but it turned out that I needn't have bothered as all of his attention was on my forehead.

My plain, bare forehead.

I used to have an ugly scar there from when my parents were murdered, but I hated the way people kept staring at it. A few years ago, Bruce hired the best plastic surgeons in the country to remove it. Now I can leave my forehead exposed instead of having to constantly pull my bangs down to cover it like I did when I was little.

"Oh?" Bruce responded. "What seems to be the issue?"

"This is... all rather complicated, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said with a confused frown, making me think that the absence of a scar on my forehead had tripped him up somehow, putting him off of whatever he'd intended to say.

"It's not complicated at all, Albus," the man in the back interrupted. "She's been chosen and has to come with us. That's all there is to it."

"Go with you? Where? Why?" I exclaimed as the concerns that I'd had a few minutes ago began to crystalize. There was no way that I was going to leave Gotham and my family. I was finally getting the hang of field work. I was finally helping Bruce and Dick make a difference in our community!

"Don't worry, Amy, you're not going anywhere you don't want to," Dick said as he moved to my side. I'd long bristled at Bruce and Dick being overprotective of me and always worked hard to appear every bit as strong as them, but at that moment I could have hugged him.

"If you're here to take my ward away from me, I can assure you that you'll fail," Bruce said, his expression carved in stone, and there was a coldness in his voice that I'd seldom heard there. "She's been safely and happily in my care for over twelve years now. I have some of the best lawyers in the country on retainer, and they are just the very tip of the iceberg when it comes to the resources that are at my disposal. She and Dick are not just my legal heirs — they are my **family** , sir, and this is their home for as long as they wish it."

"Come now, Barty, there's no need for all that," Dumbledore said to the other man, but while his voice was still mild, there was something in his manner that made him seem a lot less grandfatherly than he had a moment ago. Crouch seemed to sense it too, because he wilted a bit under the wizard's gaze.

The old man turned back to us and continued soothingly, "Please, I didn't come to argue, but some very difficult issues have arisen regarding young Miss Potter — issues that we really need to discuss."

"Very well," Bruce replied, his tone thawing only slightly. "Let's sit and talk. Alfred, could you bring us some more tea?"

"Of course, sir."

Once we were all seated and Alfred was serving tea, Bruce motioned for Dumbledore to get on with it. "This probably would have been easier if we'd been able to find you before your eleventh birthday, Miss Potter," he began slowly. "Despite my best efforts, though, I wasn't able to track you down until yesterday. Now time is very much against us, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to be blunt." He pulled out a stick which I pretended not to recognize and continued, "I am the Headmaster of a school in Scotland, a very specialized school for magic."

"Magic?" Bruce interrupted with a show of confusion. "You mean, like stage magicians? Hocus-pocus? You teach kids to pull rabbits out of hats?"

"No, nothing like that," Dumbledore answered with a tolerant smile. "The Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was established a thousand years ago to train children who have magic. Real magic. I am a wizard. You, Miss Potter, are a witch — and a very strong one, I suspect." He then waved his stick, and the teapot on the table between us was transformed into a kitten. Alfred had told me as much as he could about magic like this, but I'd never had a chance to actually witness it.

It was... amazing.

"Holy enchanted felines! Did you see that, Bruce?" Dick cried out, but I barely heard him, I was so mesmerized by what had just happened. I didn't even try to hide the wonder I was feeling, but as his words sank in, my chest began to tighten. Magic. Being a witch... It was a dream I'd long thought to be dead and buried, but here was a wizard telling me that it could still be true.

I didn't know whether I should laugh, cry, or both, but I did everything I could to keep from letting my feelings show — I didn't want them to even _suspect_ how much this might mean to me.

"A... a witch? Magical?" I asked as calmly as I could manage. "It doesn't seem possible. I mean, I'm... I'm completely normal. I don't have any magic."

"Are you sure about that?" Dumbledore responded with a mad twinkle in his eye, as if he knew some secret which pleased him to no end. For a second, I was tempted to reach up and make sure that I wasn't still wearing my cowl.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Hasn't anything odd or inexplicable ever happened around you over the years? Incidents that were probably associated with very strong emotions?"

Bruce looked thoughtfully at the old wizard. "There have been a few things..."

"Accidental magic," Dumbledore replied. "Even without any sort of training, magical children are able to use their magic in an unfocused and unintentional manner to make things happen, usually because of very strong feelings or desires. Incidents like summoning books or sweets to themselves or changing the color of clothing are not at all uncommon."

Bruce nodded, clearly thinking back to all the times we wondered if perhaps magic had somehow helped me out of one jam or another, usually to the great consternation of whichever villain was trying to use me as a hostage at the time. At first we all simply assumed that I was lucky, especially since miraculous escapes were almost normal for the three of us. Over time, though, the incidents surrounding me kept piling up, and we could no longer deny that something more than mere luck was at work. One possibility we'd considered was that I might have had a little bit of magic after all — less than a full witch, since I never received a letter for Hogwarts, but more than a squib like Alfred would normally have.

"Is... is that kitten real?" I asked, desperate for a distraction that might calm my surging emotions a little. I shifted forward in my seat so I could focus on the tiny ball of fluff instead of the even smaller ball of repressed hope that was starting to awaken inside me.

"It's transfigured," the old woman said with just a hint of a smile. "It won't grow and can't reproduce, but for most intents and purposes it is real, at least until the transfiguration spell wears off or is countered."

"Oh, how rude of me," Dumbledore suddenly said. "This is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts." He then gestured to the sour-looking man and said, "This is Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation in our Ministry of Magic in Britain." I could see the others nod in greeting, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the kitten that had been a teapot just moments before. Reaching out, I gently stroked its back and ears.

"Wow!" I said. "It's warm... and it purrs!"

"Magic is real," Dumbledore confirmed. "It's all around us, but those of us who can use magic hide it and ourselves from the rest of the world."

"You sound quite organized, having a school and even a government," Bruce observed. His tone was casual, but I could see that he was eager to learn all he could from this Dumbledore. Bruce can charm your entire life's history out of you without you ever realizing you're being interrogated.

Dumbledore nodded. "Normally our schools contact magical children shortly before their eleventh birthdays to invite them to attend, but we at Hogwarts were unable to reach Miss Potter. When I went to check on her relatives, they were nowhere to be found. None of the scrying or location spells I tried were of any help, nor did she appear at any of the other magical schools around the world. I must confess that as the years passed I gave in to despair, fearing that she may have died, despite the fact that her name remained in our book. Could you perhaps enlighten an old man and tell me how she came to live with you?"

"It's because of my butler, Alfred," Bruce explained. "Apparently someone left Amy on the doorstep of Petunia and Vernon Dursley in the middle of the night, never bothering to ask if they even **could** care for a second child, much less if they were willing to." None of us missed Dumbledore's flinch, nor the look McGonagall shot him that positively screamed "I told you so." I didn't know much about the Dursleys, but by all accounts I had been lucky to escape them, and you didn't have to be the World's Greatest Detective to see that Dumbledore must have had something to do with leaving me there in the first place.

I started wondering what lay beneath the kind, grandfatherly persona that he so obviously tried to project.

"After a couple of years, they were at the end of their rope and contacted Alfred, a distant relation of Amy's. I was more than happy to take her in and make her my ward, raising her alongside Dick while sharing legal guardianship with Alfred."

All of that was true; Bruce was simply leaving out the fact that Alfred was related to me on the Potter side, not the Evans side, and that as a typically long-lived squib who had not been completely shunned by his magical relatives, he knew about magic, the magical community, and the war in which my parents had been murdered. Alfred of course revealed all of this to Bruce so he'd know what he was getting into — not that a magical supervillain was any more daunting to him than the normal kind — and later to me once I was old enough to understand.

"That was very generous and kind of you," McGonagall said.

"I'm an orphan myself," Bruce replied. "My parents were murdered by a mugger when I was a child — right in front of me, in fact. When I heard about Amy's parents having been murdered by terrorists and that she had been dumped on relatives who didn't want her, how could I not step in to help? Dick, here, came to me under similar circumstances."

"Very generous indeed," Dumbledore said.

"We all have a lot in common," I said. "And while we may not all be related by blood, we are all definitely family."

"There's nothing more important than family," Bruce proclaimed in a very familiar tone, "even if it's one made up of the broken, discarded leftovers of other people's families."

Dumbledore stroked his long beard and nodded sagely. As I looked around the room, I saw that the others were responding similarly. That was when I first realized that British witches and wizards might be just as strange as the citizens of Gotham.

Or maybe I was the strange one, since I seemed to be the only person who ever thought these pronouncements Bruce came up with were weird.

"What about American schools?" Dick asked. "Surely there's at least one school of magic here. Why didn't she get a letter from them?"

"As the Headmaster said, Miss Potter's name remained in our book of prospective students," McGonagall answered. "That would have prevented other schools from sending her an automatic letter. Had you known to contact them, they would of course have admitted you, but they didn't know about you to make contact themselves."

Dumbledore nodded again and said, "It's obviously a crack in our procedures that you fell into, one that the magical schools should probably look into fixing. Well, that solves the mystery of the disappearance of Miss Potter. I can see that you've taken good care of her, for which I am extremely grateful. I'm still not sure why my spells were unable to find her three years ago..."

"You're absolutely certain that Amy's a witch?" Dick asked.

"Oh, there's no doubt about it," Dumbledore said with a kindly smile. "Both of her parents were quite powerful magically, and her name has been in the Hogwarts book ever since she was born — something that wouldn't be the case if she weren't magical. If that isn't enough, the Goblet of Fire wouldn't have chosen her name on Halloween if she were a muggle or a squib. Only a witch or wizard can be chosen."

Halloween. There it was: my unlucky day.

"Muggle? Squib?" Dick quickly asked, as if he'd never heard the terms before.

"Muggles are non-magical folk," McGonagall explained. "Squibs are born to magical parents but for some reason can't do any magic themselves."

"What is the Goblet of Fire?" Bruce asked, and the faces of our three visitors all darkened as much as I'm sure mine had when Halloween was mentioned.

"The Goblet is why we're here now," Crouch spoke up. "It's an ancient magical artifact used to select participants in magical contests. In recent centuries it's been used for the Triwizard Tournament, a contest between the three premier magical schools of Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang."

"Interested students drop their names into the Goblet, then on the big day it chooses the most worthy student from each school," Dumbledore said. "This year, for reasons we have yet to discover, the Goblet gave us four names instead of three."

"Let me guess," I said dryly. "My name was the fourth." Clearly, my magically-fueled luck with getting out of trouble was no match for my knack for getting into trouble in the first place. Especially on Halloween.

"Indeed," Dumbledore responded. "You obviously didn't submit your own name, so someone else did it on your behalf, somehow bewitching the Goblet to choose you alongside the others despite the fact that you aren't a student and aren't even old enough to compete. I have someone studying the Goblet even as we speak, but I'm afraid that it's already too late."

"What do you mean by that, and why does this matter to us?" Bruce asked. "She's hardly in a position to compete in any sort of magical contest. Just strike her name from your list and go on with the tournament."

"Because selection by the Goblet represents a magical contract," Crouch answered, "and violating a magical contract is punished by the loss of one's magic."

"That would be bad, I take it?" I asked. I certainly didn't like the idea of losing my magic, even though I was only just now learning that I truly had it; but the way Crouch said that made it seem really, **really** bad.

"Very," Dumbledore confirmed. "Witches and wizards cannot live without their magic. Those that lose it... well, they die, I'm afraid."

I looked aghast at Bruce and Dick, both of whom were clearly as appalled as I was. "How can she be part of a contract that she didn't sign?" Bruce demanded. "She's barely fourteen — she can't even legally sign a normal contract, let alone a magical one that will **kill** her!"

Alfred had once told me that magic and common sense didn't mix well together. At the time I'd found it amusing, but somehow it didn't seem so funny anymore.

"Tell them the rest, Albus," McGonagall said, looking almost as unhappy as I felt.

Dumbledore sighed. "Competing in the Triwizard Tournament is not without its own risks. It was cancelled two centuries ago because of the high death rate among both contestants and spectators. This is the first of what many hope to be a renewed series of tournaments, and while safeguards have been put in place to make it less dangerous, there will be risks involved."

"The risks are more than manageable for any competent witch or wizard," Crouch insisted.

"Which **I** am not," I interjected. "In case you've forgotten, you've only just informed me that magic even exists. My education and experience are entirely non-magical. Bruce has provided me with the best muddled education..."

"Muggle," Dick corrected, and I rolled my eyes impatiently.

"Muddle, muggle, whatever," I continued. "The point is, I'm well educated in normal things, but not in voodoo or hoodoo or anything else of that sort. Give me something to do with math or physics and I'll win, even against older students. But magic?"

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Bruce said in a tight voice. "You've come to inform me that due to _your_ negligence, my ward's life is in jeopardy. If she does nothing, she'll lose her magic, which will lead to her death. Alternatively, she can compete in a dangerous magical contest designed for older students, despite not knowing how to perform any magic at all. This contest is supposedly 'safe,' but it is being administered by the very same people who so spectacularly failed when they were in charge of the Goblet, so this option could also easily lead to her death."

"Now, see here," Crouch blustered, "I must object! The Ministry..."

"No, Barty," Dumbledore interrupted, holding up his hand. "Mr. Wayne's words may be rather blunt, but in substance he is quite correct. Regardless of what exactly transpired, it is entirely our fault that this problem has arisen, yet Miss Potter is the one who must bear the consequences. Neither you nor I are at any risk for losing our magic or our lives, are we?"

Crouch had the decency to look chagrined at that, but I still didn't like him. He seemed way more concerned for his precious tournament than my safety.

"I'm obviously not willing to let my ward die from the loss of this magic of hers, or whatever it is," Bruce announced. "At the same time, though, I'm not willing to let her walk blindly into an unknown and potentially deadly contest that tests magical skills and knowledge which she doesn't have. Like I said, nothing is more important than family, and I will do whatever is necessary to protect my family."

I knew Bruce meant that, too. Most of the time, people only ever saw the pleasant side of him, but I'd seen how dark his personality could become when he thought one of us might be in real danger. I've never seen him completely unload on someone, nor did I really want to; but just knowing that he was there, supporting me, made me feel a lot better.

"We would of course do all we could to prepare her," Dumbledore said. "I intend to line up professors and tutors from her age group to get her up to speed."

"That will help, but something tells me that won't be enough," Bruce responded. "You said that time is against us?"

"The first task is on November 24th," Crouch admitted reluctantly.

"That's three weeks away!" I objected. I could solve one of the Riddler's riddles in less than a minute. I could defuse one of the Joker's bombs in less than two. But how much magic could I learn to do in less than three weeks?

"Not nearly enough time for basic tutoring to accomplish much," Bruce observed, and none of our visitors disputed the point. **I** sure didn't. "The only reason for me to allow my ward to participate in your contest is if she has more of a chance of surviving it than she does from simply staying here." He leaned forward a little and narrowed his eyes in an expression I'd often seen when he went in for the kill in a business negotiation. "In order for me to be satisfied that she has that chance, I have a few conditions that you're going to have to meet."

Our visitors shifted uncomfortably, but they had no idea what was coming.

* * *

Four hours later, Alfred escorted three very unhappy magicals out of the manor; ten minutes later he returned to the sitting room with three glasses of milk and a plate of those cookies Dick and I had been looking forward to earlier.

He gave me first pick. That was probably the first really good thing to happen to me all day, and I was going to savor it.

"I'm surprised that they gave in on so much," Dick said, then bit into his own. "It's not like Amy has much of a choice about whether she goes or not."

"Manners, Dick," Bruce said while taking two cookies from the plate. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm not the least bit surprised at how easily they gave in," Bruce continued as he leaned back in his chair. "It was obvious to me from the start that they were concerned about far more than what might happen to Amy. Why else would they send three high-ranking people who presumably have limited time and significant responsibilities? No, there's more going on than they told us, and when I made them believe that I was prepared to keep her here, they became willing to do almost anything necessary to get me to change my mind. Indeed, the very fact that they became so accommodating, even on matters they clearly didn't want to compromise on, is proof that there's a much deeper plot afoot."

"So we need to learn more," I observed. "We need to find out what they're really worried about."

"Exactly!" Bruce declared, stabbing a finger at me for emphasis. "Because knowledge is power!" He turned to Alfred and continued, "Can you reach out to your contacts in the magical community, both here and in Britain, to find out what they might know? Any rumor, any scrap of information, might be useful."

"Of course, sir. I'll begin making calls tonight," Alfred responded. He had felt no need to keep in regular contact with the magical world, but he still knew people whom he trusted and who owed him favors. "You do realize, sir, that Amy was almost certainly entered into this contest by those who blame her for the death of their old master?"

"Of course, Alfred," Bruce said. "And what's the easiest way to spring a trap?"

"To walk right into it!" Dick exclaimed, not seeming to notice that _he_ wasn't the one the trap had been made for.

"Precisely, Dick!"

"Very good, sir. I'll be sure to pack the extra medical supplies, then."

"I'm surprised that they didn't say anything about me being the Girl Who Lived," I said as I reached for another cookie. "I mean, it's not like they'll be able to hide it, not if what Alfred has heard about my fame is correct."

"I should probably check into the latest information on that as well," Alfred said softly.

"True enough," Bruce agreed. "Hopefully they were just concerned about dumping too much on us at once."

"The way they kept looking at my forehead was creepy, though," I said with a slight shiver. I wasn't sure, but I thought that maybe staring at an _absent_ scar might be worse than staring at the scar itself.

"That scar was as famous as your name," Alfred pointed out.

"I know, and I'm even happier now that we had it removed," I responded. "I can't begin to imagine an entire school full of insensitive people who keep staring at my forehead!"

"As we've already seen, though, they are likely to do that anyway," Bruce pointed out. "Before, they would have stared at your scar, and the most obtuse would have asked callous questions, like whether you could remember the night you got it. Now they're going to stare at the clear skin, and some will ask what happened to it."

"Either way, you'll still probably get people asking about your pet unicorn, Portia," Dick said with a smirk.

"Aw, geez," I said, putting my head in my hands. "I'd forgotten all about that stupid Girl Who Lived book series!" I looked up at Alfred and said, "Please tell me that wizards and witches aren't really gullible enough to believe what's in those books? Not after all this time?" Alfred just got a sad look on his face and shook his head in sympathy.

Someday, I was going to find whoever wrote those books and **strangle** them.

"It's not going to be easy," Bruce said, "but that's why I insisted that Dick and I be allowed to go with you. There's no way I'd let you walk into something like that without support."

"Thanks, I really appreciate that," I said, and meant it. I'm not typically afraid of new situations, but being dumped into the magical community in a foreign country while having to compete in a dangerous contest I was entered into by someone who obviously wished me harm... well, that really wasn't something I wanted to deal with all alone.

At the same time, I couldn't deny just how excited I was. I had long known that magic could do amazing things, but none of Alfred's stories came anywhere close to actually seeing magic performed in front of me... especially when I now knew that this was something that **I** could do, too. When no magical letters had arrived on my eleventh birthday and we concluded that I must not be magical, I was quite upset at being denied the chance to share something with my parents, even though I'd never get to know them.

All the moping around I did, seeking solitude in dark corners of the manor, brought me one benefit, though: it gave me the chance to discover Bruce and Dick's little secret, which I promptly demanded to be allowed in on. I latched onto their crime-fighting crusade as if it were a lifeline, telling myself that it was much cooler than learning magic tricks. I'd even managed to convince myself that becoming Batgirl was better than being a witch.

Now, though...

Reaching out, I picked up the teapot that had been a kitten and cradled it in my hands. "I... I want to learn magic," I announced. I left unsaid my desire to also attend an actual school again. It was something I'd had to give up when I decided to join Bruce and Dick at night because no school could accommodate my nocturnal schedule. Being limited to private tutors was isolating me from other kids my age, and was the one thing I truly regretted about my decision — not that I wanted them to know that.

After a moment, I looked up, fearing that I would see disappointment or anger on the faces of the three men who had become my family, but instead all I saw was love and support.

"And so you shall, Amy Potter," Bruce said in his usual, confident tone. "And so you shall."

"Uh... I just have one question," Dick interjected, spoiling Bruce's moment. When my pseudo-sibling paused for dramatic effect, I knew that I wasn't going to like it.

"Who gets the job of telling all this to Aunt Harriet?"

* * *

What fate awaits Batgirl in the hidden magical world of merry olde England? Will Batman and Robin be able to sleuth out the mystery of who put her name in the Goblet of Fire? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!


	2. Arrival in London Town

**A/N:** Readers familiar with my other works might be accustomed to the nearly epic-length nature of the three-part Jasmine Potter series, and even the Witches of SHIELD series is quite detailed and complex. This is **not** like those other stories. There won't be dozens of intricately-woven plot threads this time; this is a relatively short, ten-chapter story that's intended to be lighthearted and fast-paced. This means lots of potential plot points and interactions will never get touched upon.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Harry and Harley" by Rihaan. HP/DC crossover. In progress. Harry Potter accidentally winds up in an alternate world that is populated by superheroes rather than by magicals. He decides to make himself at home until he finds a way back — and moves in with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Gotham City will never be the same...

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 02 - Arrival in London Town**

 **Early November, 1994.**

"So, you can really see it?" Bruce asked dubiously as he looked up and down the storefronts across the street.

"It's right there, plain as day," I insisted, anxious to get moving and finally set foot in Britain's magical community. We'd actually flown in the day before, but Bruce wanted to check in with Superintendent Watson at Ireland Yard first. The two were old friends, and Watson had evidently been instrumental in expediting my transfer to Bruce's guardianship (plus some other things which Bruce always refused to discuss). As a result, I'd had to wait a full day to come here. It hadn't been easy, and I suspected that Bruce did it in part to force me to practice patience — never my strong suit.

Well, enough of that. I decided to get things moving by grabbing his and Dick's hands. This caused both of them to gasp slightly in surprise as the Leaky Cauldron shimmered into view across the street.

"Holy mother of Merlin, it's just like magic!" Dick exclaimed.

"I'm not sure about this," Bruce said slowly. "There are strict licensing laws in this country. You are much too young to be entering an establishment that specializes in serving alcohol... and I'm even less sure you should be entering any establishment that looks like **that**. At least," he added in an undertone, "not without your full gear." I could see what he meant. The Leaky Cauldron looked as seedy and rundown as the worst of Gotham's dives — places we go to hunt, not to socialize.

"Maybe it's not so bad on the inside?" Dick suggested. "Maybe it only looks like that because they don't actually have to attract muggle customers on this side, so they don't need to make it look nice?"

"Perhaps, but that's really no excuse," Bruce insisted. "I don't let you walk around the house without regard for your hygiene and appearance just because you don't have to go out in public for the day. It's not about looking good for others, it's about self-respect."

"Gosh, I suppose you're right, Bruce. It says that they don't really respect themselves enough to take any care in how they look. From now on, I'm going to spend extra time on my hair in the morning."

"Time very well spent, old chum," Bruce said as I fought desperately not to roll my eyes. Dick already spent way more time on his hair than I did.

"Look, it really doesn't matter, does it?" I said. I couldn't believe that he was balking at this now, at the very last minute. "This is the only way to enter the magical shopping area from muggle London, so unless we plan on flying right back to Gotham and taking our chances with me losing my magic, this is the way we have to go." I looked up at him, my eyes pleading for him to not take this away from me, not when we were so close... and not because of a rundown facade!

"Very well, I suppose forward is the path we have set for ourselves," Bruce conceded. He then put one hand on my shoulder and continued, "Now remember, before crossing the street, be sure to—"

"Look both ways, I know, I know." This time, I **did** roll my eyes. I was fourteen, not four! How long would it be before he'd finally treat me like an adult?

"No, actually, I was going to say that you should look the opposite way from what you usually do," Bruce said, almost sounding hurt. "Here in merry old England, they drive on the other side of the road, so the cars will be coming from the opposite direction of what you're used to. I wouldn't ever want you to get hurt, but especially not now, when you're so close to starting something I know you've dreamt about."

I winced, feeling like a jerk now. "Sorry," I mumbled. How did he know I'd dreamed about being magical, though? I'd barely even admitted it to myself.

Shoving those thoughts aside, I carefully looked both ways — being sure to look the wrong way first — before the three of us crossed over to the pub which Dumbledore had told us about.

* * *

Upon entering the dark and dingy pub, I realized just how wrong Dick had been in his attempt to make excuses for how it looked on the outside — if anything, the inside was even worse.

"This isn't so bad at all," Bruce observed at my side.

I just stared at him.

"No, really," he insisted. "It's very quaint and rustic. It has an old-world charm that you simply can't find in such establishments back home. I admit, it's a bit dark in here, but it doesn't have the layers of accumulated grease and dirt that I feared from the outside."

I wrinkled my nose as I looked around, trying to see whatever it was Bruce saw in the place, but I just couldn't do it. I don't mind dark places; I don't even mind dangerous places. But that's where I go when I work at night, not during the day when I want a bite to eat.

While doing that, I caught a glimpse of someone signaling us and quickly recognized Professor McGonagall, looking just as stiff and stern as she had back at stately Wayne Manor. I'd originally assumed that her demeanor had been due to my situation, but now I was wondering if she was always like that.

McGonagall was standing on the far side of the bar with someone who looked to be my age in witch's garb and two adults who were dressed in normal clothing. As we walked over, I focused on the girl. She had bushy brown hair, was about my height and age, and was biting her bottom lip with overly large front teeth. It was obvious she was nervous about something, but for some reason the first word that popped into my mind was "adorable."

I had no time to think about that, though, because Professor McGonagall was already introducing them as Hermione Granger, a witch in my year, and her parents, Craig and Emma Granger, who were dentists from Crawley. Hermione had volunteered to accompany me to provide a peer's perspective on any questions I might have, while her parents were there to do the same for Bruce.

I offered my hand to Hermione, half expecting the tentative, clammy handshake you so often get with nervous people, but her answering grip was warm. And... tingly. A prickle like an electric current ran up my arm and down my spine, almost making me shiver. Judging by the way she stiffened slightly, it seemed like she might have felt it, too.

"Are you really from Gotham?" Hermione asked a bit timidly while the others all introduced themselves.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, trying to smile a bit. "I can't remember living anywhere else, actually." My friendly response seemed to give her confidence, and the more she talked, the stronger her voice became.

"It's so disappointing that they couldn't find you! I mean, you weren't even deliberately hiding, were you?"

"No, I was out in public a lot, using my birth name." We hadn't sought out any contact with America's magical community, but we hadn't gone out of our way to hide from it, either. I didn't go into detail, though, because we wanted them to think that none of us had known about magic until a few days ago.

"Well, I'm really glad that you have a chance to go to Hogwarts now... but it's awful that you've only been found so you can be forced into this horrible tournament!" Hermione continued, sounding quite outraged. "I researched all about it, you know, in _Triwizard Tournaments: A History_. In the last tournament, a manticore got loose during the first task, killing all of the competitors, all the judges, and over a hundred spectators! That's why they put an end to them! You'd have to be suicidal to enter this, which is why I'm sure you didn't do it, despite what some people are saying. And then, in the tournament before the last one..."

I had been heartened at first by her expression of support, but that quickly transformed into a cold knot in the pit of my stomach at her litany of horrors.

"Hermione!" her mother chided her. "I doubt Amy wants to hear all that. Remember you said you were going to work on not overwhelming people with information?"

"Sorry, I just... wanted to be helpful," the girl mumbled, shifting quickly back to timid as she visibly withdrew in on herself. I forced myself to smile, appreciating the sentiment, even if the way she'd handled it was... distressing. She was the first witch my age I'd ever met, and I was very much hoping that we could be friends. She was nervous — anybody could make a mistake, right?

She tried again. "Uh, have you ever seen, you know, Batman and Robin?"

"A couple of times," I answered vaguely, surprised at the question.

"Wow!" she exclaimed while her parents chuckled. "That's amazing! I've always wished I could meet them."

"Hermione here has been a fan of Batman and Robin ever since she was little," Mr. Granger said as he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Though recently I think someone else has taken over as her personal hero," her mother added with a knowing smile.

"Mum!" Hermione hissed as her cheeks started going pink.

"Oh?" I asked. Who could possibly be more admirable than Bruce and Dick? Suddenly I wasn't so sure about being friends after all.

"Yes, that new masked hero in Gotham," Mrs. Granger continued. "Batgirl, I think? We've only seen news reports about her for the past year or so."

My brain froze briefly as I tried to process that. **Me?**

"Hermione finds her quite inspirational," Mr. Granger said cheerfully. "I certainly can't deny that her feats are impressive, especially for someone of her apparent age."

"Muuum! Daaad!" Hermione groaned, this time hiding her face in her hands. I managed to keep smiling, but inside my stomach did a flip-flop at the idea that she found me inspirational... well, not me-me, but Batgirl-me. Still — I had fans!

But did I **want** fans? Or more specifically, did I want to be going to school with them? It wasn't something I had ever considered, and I wasn't sure I was comfortable with it.

"Masked hero?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, they put on masks and go after criminals," Mr. Granger explained.

"Oh, my," McGonagall responded. "That sounds... dangerous."

"And a bit kooky, if you ask me," Bruce interjected. "I mean, anyone who puts on a costume and goes looking to brawl with criminals has to have serious psychological issues, not unlike the masked criminals they're always seen fighting."

"That's not true!" Hermione objected hotly, seemingly emboldened by her desire to defend her heroes. "They're all great people, and Batgirl in particular! It takes a special sort of person to stand side-by-side with veteran crimefighters, battling evil villains who are so much bigger and stronger than her!"

I may not have known what to think about fangirls, but praise like that was going to go to my head if she kept it up.

"Well, I don't suppose that matters very much, since they are all so far away," McGonagall said, obviously trying to forestall any arguments. "Are you ready to begin your shopping for Hogwarts, Miss Potter?"

"Absolutely!"

"To the alley!" Bruce exclaimed, nearly making both Dick and me snort in amusement.

* * *

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, the main shopping area for Britain's wizarding community," McGonagall announced once we were through the strangely moving wall. It was an amazing place, and now I thought I could see the "quaintness" and "old-world" charm that Bruce had been talking about back in the pub. The architecture looked like something out of a Dickens novel, and I could just about imagine how every community must have looked similar, once upon a time.

"Ah, commerce," Bruce said dramatically as he sniffed the air. "The romance, the excitement of monetary exchanges. Why, it's the very heart and soul of any great society."

"Indeed it is," McGonagall said with an approving nod while I simply looked confused. I turned, hoping to find support from another girl my age, only to see Hermione nodding and smiling as well. I felt like taking back what I had thought earlier before coming to Britain: witches and wizards are even **weirder** than citizens of Gotham.

"Speaking of which," McGonagall continued, "we should go to Gringotts Bank."

"I brought plenty of traveller's checks," Bruce started to say, but McGonagall shook her head.

"I'm afraid the stores here only take wizarding money — gold, silver, and bronze coins minted by the goblins who run the bank. They may exchange your... travelling checks for gold, but Miss Potter has a vault of coins left to her by her parents, and she needs to officially claim that anyway." As we walked down the alley, I was torn between listening to McGonagall explain the goblins and the wizarding economy on the one hand, and trying to absorb all the sights, sounds, and smells around us on the other.

I don't think I managed to do either justice, because I kept finding myself glancing at Hermione, who seemed to be drinking in McGonagall's impromptu lecture as if she'd never heard any of it before. I couldn't help but wonder why such basic information hadn't been given to her and her parents long ago.

* * *

"I'm never going to get a Gringotts vault," Hermione swore as she stumbled down the steps out of the bank. "Never, never, never!" I could see Dick smirking at her, and I was tempted to join him since I had enjoyed the cart ride as much as he had — it was almost as exciting as Batman's flying.

But Dick wasn't the one who would suffer a lifetime of bad service from the goblins because of Hermione throwing up on the cart driver — a cart driver who also happened to be the branch manager, no less.

He had evidently decided to take care of us personally (but anonymously) because he was interested in learning more about both the Potter heir and the current head of Wayne Enterprises. We didn't know that at first, obviously, but the truth came out when his guards made themselves known in the wake of Hermione's projectile vomiting.

I'd never been so embarrassed in all my life — and that's saying something, given who I live with. (I mean, just look at some of the stuff Bruce says sometimes!) Fortunately for me, the opportunity to do business with someone as rich as Bruce Wayne ensured that everyone kept their heads — literally and figuratively. In the end, while the elder Grangers were comforting their sick daughter, Bruce talked privately with the manager and promised to return to discuss investments. That would allow me to return without fear. Embarrassment, but no fear.

"I'm so sorry about that," Mrs. Granger said to us. "If we'd had any idea that the trip would be like that..."

"We've only ever just exchanged pounds for galleons at the teller windows," Mr. Granger explained.

"Think nothing of it," Bruce insisted. "Not everyone is well-suited to that level of excitement."

"Maybe if we strapped her in for a few more rides, it would desensitize her," Dick suggested helpfully.

When I saw Hermione turn ominously green at the idea, I said hastily, "I don't think she'll let you do it that easy."

"Easily," both Hermione and Bruce said simultaneously.

They looked at each other for a moment before Hermione continued, "Good grammar is essential, Amaryllis."

"It's **Amy** ," I retorted, starting to get annoyed with her.

"Indeed it is, Hermione," Bruce said, completely ignoring me. "Good grammar is the foundation of language and effective communication, without which we will surely never realize the dream of the eventual brotherhood of man."

Hermione smiled smugly as I looked back and forth between her and Bruce, trying to process the fact that there were two of them in the world. Two! And worse yet, I was probably going to be around this witch a lot at Hogwarts.

"We mustn't tarry," McGonagall cut in briskly. "There is still much to do and buy."

* * *

For the most part, magical shopping was pretty much like muggle shopping. The products were different — space-expanded trunks with multiple compartments instead of Gucci handbags, and frog spleen instead of caviar — but the basic shopping experience was the same.

At least it was until we got to the most unusual and wizarding-specific product, the magical wand. Ollivander, the gaunt old wandmaker, was so creepy that he reminded me of Jonathan Crane, and I was tempted to ask him if he had any relatives by that name in America. Judging by the reactions of Hermione and McGonagall, though, I had a feeling that his behavior was normal for him.

"I've been waiting for you to enter my domain, Miss Potter," he said in a voice that made me want to look at my feet for a trap door. "I was so disappointed when you didn't show up three years ago..." He used a magical measuring tape to get all sorts of measurements from my dominant hand, then walked into the back of his store, only to return moments later with a long, thin box. "Here — cherry, nine and a quarter inches, with a dragon heartstring core." I just looked at him as I held the piece of wood in my hands.

"Well, give it a wave," he said a bit impatiently, so I whipped the wand in the air. Immediately, dozens of boxes went flying violently off the shelves, and Ollivander almost leapt over the counter to pull the wand out of my hand.

"No, no, not that one," he muttered before returning to the depths of his stock to find another.

"Here," he said upon his return a few moments later. "Banyan tree, twelve inches, with a hippogriff feather core." I waved this one a bit more cautiously, and suddenly everyone's clothes were switched — except mine. Personally, I thought Bruce looked rather fetching in Mrs. Granger's yellow dress, but there was much grumbling before Ollivander could set things right again.

"Maybe this one... Rubber tree, ten and three-quarters inches. It's core is the heartstring of a magical, spotted hyena." An even more cautious wave from me gave everyone clown makeup. Bruce and Dick were definitely looking a bit grim before Ollivander could fix them.

 _Sorry!_ I mouthed.

"Quite the tricky customer," I could hear Ollivander muttering from deeper in his shop. "Hmm... I wonder..." he continued as he returned. "It would be ironic if you were destined for this wand when its brother gave you that..." He trailed off as he looked in bewilderment at my bare forehead. "Oh, well, not this one, then," he finished, tossing it aside.

It was several minutes before he came back once again, this time with a very old box. "I've only ever used this wood the one time because no one has ever been a match for this wand."

He pulled the wand out very carefully, almost lovingly. "Evergreen magnolia, also known as the bat tree. Eleven inches with a ruddock feather core."

Gingerly I accepted the wand from the creepy wizard, and with a look around to make sure that everyone else had braced themselves, I gave it a slow wave. Instead of the expected disaster, like turning everyone into toads, I felt a warm rush through my body as multi-colored sparks streamed from the wand tip. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever experienced.

Hearing about magic was cool. Watching magic being done for the first time was amazing. But actually doing magic myself? Feeling an active connection to my own magic? There are no words... except perhaps to say that I felt truly complete and whole for the first time ever.

The flash of lightning and crack of thunder outside, despite it being a clear day, was a bit more ominous — was someone trying to tell me something? Well, no time to worry about it now — we needed to be moving on. The others seemed to agree, as everyone studiously ignored what had happened outside and Bruce paid for my wand before McGonagall quickly ushered us back out into the street.

"The only thing left is a pet, if you wish to bring one," McGonagall said after checking her list.

"A pet?" I asked, looking to Bruce for guidance.

"It's fine with me," he said with a shrug. "We can all learn a great deal from the close companionship of an animal."

"Last year, I got a cat," Hermione piped up. "Well, technically he's part cat and part kneazle, which is a magical species of cat. He's been a great companion."

"There are magical species of regular animals?" I asked. "I mean, I sort of expected there to be magical animals, just not magical versions of normal ones."

"There are, though not of everything, Miss Potter," the professor said, handing me the Hogwarts shopping list which said that we could bring a owl, a cat, or a toad.

I didn't know if I really wanted to take a pet — I already had quite a lot on my plate this year, thank you very much — but it was worth a look, so we all trooped off to Magical Menagerie. Bruce and Dick went immediately to the owls, seeing them as a valuable tool for communication within the magical community, while I just wandered around to see what caught my eye, if anything.

Soon I realized that I could hear someone or something speaking — but in an extremely high-pitched voice, like nothing I'd ever heard before.

"I'm hungry. When are they going to feed me?"

"Hello?" I called out. "Who is that?"

"Oh, it's just another stupid pink-skin. I want food!"

"Hey — who are you calling stupid?" I asked, starting to get a bit miffed.

"You can understand? You can speak?"

"Well, obviously," I said. "And I've been speaking for years."

"No one here has ever spoken to me before."

I softened a bit at that. "Sorry to hear that — that's pretty rude," I said. "But where are you?"

"In the corner, up high."

I went over to where I heard the squeaky voice and looked up, only to gaze into two of the cutest, blackest eyes I've ever seen.

"Ah, I've see you've encountered our vledermus," came a deep voice from behind me, causing me to jump slightly. I silently berated myself for not having been more aware of my surroundings. Normally no one would be able to sneak up on me — well, no one but Bruce or Dick — but for some reason, I'd been totally entranced by the squeaky voice.

"A what?" I asked, now trying to split my attention between him and the eyes in the corner.

"A vledermus," the large man said. "It's a magical species of bat, similar to fruit bats. They are about the size of a small Asian fruit bat and can have a wingspan up to about two feet, though they are carnivorous like smaller bats."

"He's... he's beautiful," I said in wonder.

"Indeed he is, and quite rare, too," the man said. "Very few witches and wizards are interested in bats, though, at least in Britain, so he's the only one I have. And he's been here for a while, too."

That settled it. "I'll take him."

"Excellent! I'll even throw in a cage and some supplies, since I've had so much trouble finding a companion for him."

"Great, thanks," I said absently, not really listening. I reached out and let the little guy crawl onto my arm. In just a few seconds, he was snuggled against my neck, buried in my red hair.

That's how Bruce and Dick met him — black eyes peering out through my hair — when I found them amongst the owls a couple of minutes later.

"I thought we'd get this snowy owl," Bruce said, gesturing to the bird on Dick's shoulder, beating him about the head with its wings and trying to eat his ear. "She's evidently been here for a while — very picky, for some reason, but she seems to tolerate us quite well."

"Yeah, I can tell," I observed dryly.

"Keep working on your bird calls, Dick," Bruce said to him. "If more people practiced them, we might one day be able to really communicate with our fine feathered friends."

"I'll... ow! I'll work on it!"

"And then maybe you can find something she wants to eat more than your ear," he added.

"Good idea!" Dick said fervently.

"Now... what exactly is that in your hair?" Bruce asked when he turned back to me.

"A magical bat," I answered. When Bruce raised a questioning eyebrow, I added. "He's cute. And I can understand him."

"Really?"

The bat squeaked, and I translated, "Yes, and Igor says that you're much too skeptical for your own good."

"Igor?"

"Yes, it's a perfect name. He likes it."

Bruce just slowly shook his head, but he didn't try to dissuade me.

Hermione was another story entirely.

"You can't get a bat!" she insisted. "Bats aren't on the list of approved animals for Hogwarts."

"I don't care," I said, wondering what happened to the timid witch I'd met earlier and annoyed that she was trying to separate the two of us. For some reason, I felt very attached to him already. "Igor likes me. He says you need to lighten up, though."

"What? He does not! You can't understand him!" Hermione objected.

"Sure I can. Can't you understand your cat?" I asked.

"Part-kneazle," she corrected. "And no, I can't understand him. Why would I?"

"Maybe because you're both magical?"

"Is there a problem here, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked as she walked up.

"Ama... I mean, Amy wants to bring a bat to Hogwarts, but she can't, of course," Hermione said quickly. "It's not on the list of approved animals."

As McGonagall looked intently at my right shoulder where Igor was clinging to my hair, I realized that maybe Hermione's problem was that she was too much a stickler for the rules. Bruce tends to be a stickler, too, but at least he understands that sometimes there are exceptions.

Well, regardless, I wasn't going to let her separate me from Igor. The very thought was making me feel queasy, and I thought I'd do just about anything to protect him. Hermione wasn't a professor, so what right did she have to make such pronouncements?

"Is that a vledermus, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked. "Those are quite unusual. I don't think I've ever seen one before."

"He's the only one here," I told the professor. "I found Igor because I could understand what he was saying."

"Did you really?" she asked, a bit surprised. "If you can understand the sounds he's making, it must be that you're starting a familiar bond — and so quickly, too!"

I frowned. "Actually, I'm not familiar with it at all — this is all still pretty new to me," I pointed out.

She blinked at me in confusion for a moment, then her expression cleared. "Ah, no — it's a magical bond between a witch or wizard and the magical animal they've taken as a companion, also known as a familiar," McGonagall explained. "They're not exactly rare, but they aren't common, either, especially at your age. For whatever reason, you and... Igor, is it? You and Igor must be very much in sync for such a bond to start so quickly. Normally you'd need special permission to bring a vledermus to Hogwarts, but with a familiar bond already forming, permission is automatic."

I grinned smugly at Hermione, who simply huffed and crossed her arms, clearly upset at not being right for a change. I no longer cared why I thought she was adorable when I first saw her — at that point, I was sure she was way more annoying than she was worth.

* * *

By the time we left Magical Menagerie with a snowy owl, a vledermus, and all the necessary supplies both animals required, we'd spent far longer in there than anyone had anticipated — long enough to be tracked down by the press, apparently. I wasn't entirely surprised that someone approached me, to be honest: the more time we'd spent shopping, the more people seemed to recognize me and start staring. I'm not unaccustomed to being looked at — being the ward of Bruce Wayne has always garnered me a certain amount of attention — but there was something about the looks I was getting from wizards and witches that was far more unnerving than the ones I've ever gotten in Gotham, Metropolis, or anywhere else.

And it wasn't too hard to figure out why. Elsewhere, I was just the ward of a very wealthy man; here, I was apparently viewed as some sort of savior — a savior who'd gone missing, no less. I definitely got the impression that they expected something from me, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what.

Bruce, Dick, Alfred, and I had debated how to handle something like this, but unfortunately we hadn't come up with anything useful — nothing beyond me just grinning and bearing it, at least.

"Miss Potter? Miss Potter? I'm Rita Skeeter, reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. Would you have time for an interview?"

A woman who reminded me a bit of Poison Ivy had bustled up and was now waiting expectantly, brandishing some sort of green feather at me. _Oh, yeah — they write with quills,_ I reminded myself. The magical world was going to take a lot of getting used to.

For a moment, I thought I heard Hermione growling beside me, but Bruce quickly handed the cage containing his new snowy owl over to Dick and stepped in to charm the annoying-sounding woman with his dazzling smile. "Excuse me, I'm Bruce Wayne, Amy's guardian. If you wish to conduct any interviews, it really should be with me first."

She pulled down her glasses slightly and eyed him up and down. "Well, now," she purred, "I'd love to do you — er, I mean, talk to you. So you raised the Girl Who Lived? Where has she been? What has she been doing?"

"Miss Skeeter, please," Bruce said, holding up his hands in surrender. "We've just spent a long day shopping, and we're all very tired. Perhaps this would be better done in a day or two, once we've settled into our new house in Hogsmeade." He then reached into a pocket and pulled out a card. "Here's our new address. Why don't you stop by tomorrow afternoon so we can talk over some tea?"

"That would be lovely!" she gushed, plucking the card from his fingers. "I'll definitely be there." She walked away, though not without a lingering — and somewhat predatory — backward glance.

"You handled that well," Mrs. Granger observed.

"She's a horrid person!" Hermione said. "She writes awful, awful things about people. You really shouldn't talk to her at all."

"Oh, I'm sure she isn't that bad," Bruce said. "It's not easy being a reporter, forced to create exciting stories out of plain, ordinary people like Amy, Dick, and me. We really should try to be more understanding of the terrible pressures that reporters must work under."

This time, Hermione joined me in looking at Bruce like he was crazy, but that didn't make me any happier with her — maybe I wasn't being fair, but I was still pretty upset at her attempt to separate me from Igor. As luck would have it, I had to sit next to her when we all went back to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner, but I tried to ignore her while Bruce and Dick talked to the elder Grangers, and for the most part she kept pretty quiet.

"Are you really moving to Hogsmeade?" Mr. Granger asked. "I thought it was an all-magical community."

"Oh, yes," Bruce said. "With Amy forced to participate in this horrible tournament, Dick and I insisted that we be allowed to live close by so we could actively support her."

"I can't imagine what I'd do if our daughter were in the same situation," Mrs. Granger said. "You must have been going crazy ever since you found out. It would be tough for anyone, I'm sure."

"Well, we're not just anyone," Bruce assured the Grangers.

"When will you be moving in?" McGonagall asked.

"Alfred is already there, setting things up," Dick answered. "We'll sleep there tonight, in fact."

"Alfred?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Our butler," Bruce supplied. "He's a distant relation of Amy's and how she came to be a part of our family."

"Butler?" Hermione asked softly. "Butler! You're... you're **that** Bruce Wayne!" I was frankly surprised that she was only just then figuring that out, but then I remembered that she'd been out of the muggle world for most of the past three years, so maybe she'd lost touch with some things.

"I'm not aware of any other," Bruce said with a charming smile.

"Oh!" Mrs. Granger gasped. "Wayne Enterprises? So that's why the goblin was so interested in talking to you! I never expected someone like you to be here..."

"Multi-billionaires put on their hand-made cashmere socks one at a time, just like everyone else," Bruce assured her.

"Will you still be able to run your businesses while you're here?" Mr. Granger asked curiously. "I know we wouldn't be able to just pick up and leave our practice for an extended period of time."

"Lucius Fox will take care of the day-to-day operations, and I'll be in contact with the Board of Directors if they need me," Bruce said. "This isn't actually my first time visiting your great nation. Dick and I came here to London once on, uh... business. But that was a few years ago. As for Dick and Amy here, they won't be neglecting their studies. We brought along more than a thousand key works of literature, biological specimens, and other materials necessary for a well-rounded education."

"I expect to study pretty hard while I'm here," Dick put in.

"You're keeping up with muggle education, too, in addition to your classes at Hogwarts?" Mrs. Granger asked me.

"Sure," I answered. "I need to study magic for this tournament, but that doesn't mean I'll just drop everything else — math, physics, literature, biology. There's a lot I'm studying and need to keep current with."

"I wish I could do that," Hermione said under her breath, sounding a bit disgruntled.

"We've always been disappointed that Hogwarts doesn't teach mundane subjects alongside magic," Mrs. Granger said.

"Ensuring that Amy would be able to keep up with non-magical studies was another of the conditions we insisted on before allowing her to come," Bruce said. "We wouldn't permit them to lock her in a remote castle and keep her isolated from the rest of the world — that just didn't make any sense to us."

"There's quite a lot about the magical world that doesn't make any sense," Mr. Granger said with a bit of a growl, ignoring the way McGonagall went even stiffer than usual. The two elder Grangers proceeded to regale us with stories about problems they'd experienced with the magical world, including a surprising amount of bigotry, much to the consternation of McGonagall and the embarrassment of Hermione.

McGonagall's reaction I understood, since it was her culture and community which was being criticized — accurate or not, that sort of thing just makes people defensive. Hermione's reaction was more perplexing, but just as I started trying to puzzle it out, I remembered that I was supposed to be ignoring her.

Once dinner was over, McGonagall handed us a portkey that took us to Hogsmeade, dropping us not too far from the house Bruce had purchased. Although I didn't land quite as gracefully as the guys, I thought the portkey ride was almost as much fun as the cart ride — and as a bonus, we didn't have to deal with the goblins to get it!

Our new home-away-from-home wasn't nearly as large as stately Wayne Manor, but it turned out to be quite a bit bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, surprising all of us. In the library, where Alfred had already unpacked all the books, he showed us a bust of Merlin. Flipping back the head revealed a rune which needed to be pressed to open a hidden room — but it only worked for those whose blood had been keyed into the rune, which Alfred promptly helped us to do.

"Did you take care of all this, Alfred?" I asked. I hadn't thought that a squib could do this sort of thing, or at least that was the impression he'd always given me when talking about magic.

"Not at all," he answered. "One of my old mates from my days in the army is a muggle whose sister is a witch, and she came over to handle all of this. She even took a magical vow to not reveal anything."

"Excellent work, Alfred!" Bruce declared.

"Thank you, sir."

"Have you learned anything more since you arrived?"

"Yes, sir, quite a bit, though I'm afraid it's almost all in the realm of rumor rather than hard facts."

"No matter, there's often more truth in rumors whispered in the dark than there is in the headlines shouted from the street corner," Bruce responded, making me wonder again why he was so eager to talk to that reporter. Before I could ask, though, Alfred was already serving tea and sitting down to tell us what he knew.

Rumors whispered in the dark was right: the stories he recounted about what had allegedly been happening at Hogwarts over the past couple of years were more the stuff of ghost stories and nightmares than the goings-on at any decent school. I wasn't sure whether to believe them or not, but Bruce insisted on at least taking them seriously. Usually he was all about facts rather than speculation, but this was one time when he said that keeping an open mind might be more valuable.

Still, giant snakes and soul-sucking demons were quite a bit more than I ever thought I'd be facing, even as a masked crime fighter.

We should have gone to bed early instead of staying up late into the night talking strategy, but I don't think any of us would have been able to sleep anyway.

* * *

Can Amy Potter learn magic fast enough to survive in this deadly tournament? How will the witches and wizards of Hogwarts react to the arrival of their long-absent savior? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!


	3. The Newest Gryffindor

**A/N:** This is a longer chapter, but there's a long author's note at the end about the wizarding economy which not everyone will want to bother with. I'm really happy with how much positive response this story has gotten, and especially with how many people are enjoying it despite not having expected to. A special thanks goes out to Bonnie for spending a lot of time polishing this chapter to make it flow better. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "What Happens in Vegas" by SilentlyWatches. HP/Teen Titans crossover. Willow Potter (FemHarry) is taken to Vegas for a little vacation and unexpectedly runs into the Teen Titans. Several drunken relationships/bonds are formed, including between Willow and Raven, seriously disrupting Dumbledore's plans for the Girl Who Lived.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 03 - The Newest Gryffindor**

 **Early to Mid-November, 1994.**

"Remember your breathing exercises," Dick said as he put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "And just stay calm. You'll be fine."

Clearly my poker face still needed a bit of work. I couldn't remember ever being quite as nervous as I was just then, standing in the back of the Great Hall as the students ate breakfast. I noticed more than one of them giving us curious looks, and once again I was glad that Bruce had insisted that Dumbledore provide a means for my family to enter Hogwarts. Fortunately, the enchanted necklaces they had to wear weren't too bulky and would probably fit under their costumes with little trouble, should that be needed.

I gave Dick a wan smile and tried not to fidget as we waited. Fortunately it wasn't long before Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table and made his way to the lectern. "Silence, please!" he called out somewhat unnecessarily, since by walking up there he had caught the attention of pretty much everyone in the hall already.

"As you all may remember, just over a week ago the Goblet of Fire chose a fourth and most unexpected name to compete in the Triwizard Tournament." The grumbling that immediately erupted from the crowd reminded me of something that Hermione had briefly alluded to: some people actually thought I entered my name somehow and cheated to get chosen.

Apparently, some of those people were about to become my fellow students. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I muttered softly, and Dick squeezed my shoulder a little tighter.

"After a great deal of effort, and with the help of the magic of the Goblet itself, I and others were able to finally track down one of the lost daughters of wizarding Britain," Dumbledore continued, "a witch who years ago had gone missing and who, many feared, had possibly died in unknown circumstances."

Professor McGonagall entered through a door on the far end carrying a tatty old hat and small stool. Instantly the noise level began to rise, and many faces turned towards the back where I was standing.

"As a consequence, we will now have a rather late sorting."

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall, who held up a piece of parchment and called out, "Potter, Amaryllis Caroline!"

On hearing that stupid name, I discovered that irritation is a great cure for nervousness as I practically stomped up to the front of the hall. I've never liked my name, not even as a little kid, and I've long wished I could ask my parents what drugs they were on when they named me. For a little while I demanded that I be called Carrie, a shortened form of my middle name, but eventually I figured out that I could use Amy in place of my first.

McGonagall gestured me to the stool (which seemed a little small, frankly), and once seated I could see several hundred faces staring at me — some in curiosity, some in hostility. After a moment, the scene disappeared as the hat was placed on my head and kept going down over my eyes, filling my vision with darkness and my nose with a heavy, musty odor.

 _ **I'll have you know that I'm aired out every year. I am not musty. Nor am I tatty! Yes, I can see that memory.**_

"Huh?" I said intelligently.

 _ **Well, despite how advanced your education supposedly is, I rather doubt that Ravenclaw would be appropriate...**_

 _Who is that?_

 _ **Nope, definitely not Ravenclaw.**_

 _Are you the hat?_ I asked as pieces of the puzzle finally started to fall into place.

 _ **I'm a priceless enchanted artifact, not a puzzle,**_ came the response. _**And yes, by the way, I'm the hat.**_

 _You can read my mind!_

 _ **Right in... several. This is how I examine new students so I can sort them into the best house for them.**_

 _I guess that makes sense,_ I said. Or said in my mind, I supposed.

 _ **Yes, this conversation is entirely mental — it's much faster that way. And no one else can hear a thing. Now hush while I take a closer look at... Great Googly Moogly! Why would any... do your guardians know what you do at night**_?

 _Well..._ I started.

 _ **No, no don't tell me, I see it now. They tried to dissuade you, but once it was clear to them that you wouldn't give it up, they reluctantly allowed you to participate in their dangerous little hobby.**_

 _Hey, we do important work!_ I couldn't believe that a bespelled piece of fabric was casting aspersions on our efforts to fight crime and create a more peaceful society. _We stand between innocent civilians and the darkness wrought by evil villains! We—_

 _ **You three dress up in brightly colored spandex costumes to go brawling with thugs, and all as a result of childhood traumas that should have been addressed by professional counselors years ago,**_ the hat insisted. _**If that isn't behavior worthy of getting help from mind healers, I don't know what is.**_

 _I...! You...! But..._

 _ **That said, I think you might fit in rather well here.**_

That stopped my incoherent sputtering cold. _What?_

 _ **You heard me,**_ the hat said. _**Wizarding Britain has problems — lots of problems, just like your Gotham City. It looks bright and shiny on the surface, but there's a tremendous amount of rot and decay underneath.**_

 _That I can relate to,_ I said as I nodded.

 _ **Stop that!**_ the hat shouted in my head. _**I get motion sickness. Anyway, both here and in Gotham there's far too much corruption and crime, but here it's made worse by the additional factor of blood bigotry. Our society is going to collapse if that bigotry and corruption aren't eliminated. The Headmaster has tried, but he hasn't been able to accomplish enough and doesn't have what it takes to adopt... extra-legal tactics. Perhaps someone like you who works in the dark instead of the light can do more.**_

 _I'm really only here for the tournament,_ I objected. I wanted to learn magic, maybe even find ways to integrate magic with crime fighting, but I had no desire to give up my life with Bruce and Dick back in Gotham City.

 _ **Hm, perhaps — at the moment. But you could be great here, you know. You could do things that no one else has managed to accomplish, though you'd have to work from the shadows. Instead of basking in accolades, you'd have to endure accusations and condemnations. Most witches and wizards will never entirely accept a masked vigilante, and I can already see that you'll refuse to be the savior they want to put on a pedestal and look up to.**_

I resisted the urge to shake my head. _I don't want to be the Girl Who Lived — that's a fictional character, not me. And people on pedestals have a tendency to get knocked off by those who put them up there in the first place. Besides, I didn't save them from Voldemort; if anyone did, it was my mother._

 _ **Quite understandable. But if you can't be the hero they want, perhaps you can at least be the hero they need. It would take someone with an exceptionally strong character to do what I described, but from what I can see you definitely have the potential. You've certainly had a good role model for it already. And clearly your guardian has gained the trust of quite a few government officials over the years — maybe you'll do so as well, given enough time.**_

 _I... I don't know. I'd have to think about that._ What the hat was asking for was too much — far too much. I couldn't possibly do what it suggested, could I?

 _ **Of course, no need to rush a decision... unlike your sorting, which we do need to hurry along with. Not Ravenclaw, as I said: you learn for practical reasons, not for learning's sake. You're very cunning and clever... under other circumstances, you'd make a good Slytherin, but wearing brightly-colored, sparkly spandex is anything but subtle. Hm... you're loyal and a hard worker, so I think Helga would be very proud of you, but...**_

 _But what?_

 _ **But while those are important attributes, they don't define your character. They are not the attributes from which all else emanates.**_

 _And what do you think those are for me?_ I asked, now starting to see where it was going.

 _ **Courage. Daring. Gallantry. Heroism. Do those words strike a chord with you?**_

 _Absolutely,_ I said. _Even before I put on the mask, Bruce and Dick were my role models, and those are the words they live by._

 _ **Heh — I do so wish I could get a look inside their heads. I know just where I'd sort them: right alongside you in...**_

" **GRYFFINDOR!** "

I was almost deafened by cheering from most of the hall when the hat was removed from my head, but it wasn't quite done talking to me. "You can be more than a courageous Gryffindor, just as you want to be more than the Girl Who Lived," it whispered. "Think on it, Miss Potter. Think on it."

As I started for the table which McGonagall directed me towards, I groaned inwardly when I saw that it was where Hermione Granger was already sitting. I was still a bit miffed over the things she'd done the previous day, especially trying to keep me from bringing Igor to Hogwarts, and I wasn't thrilled about living in the same house. I decided to simply sit as far away from her as possible and ignore her, but then I realized that there was already a wide, empty area around her, as though everyone else was thinking the same thing.

I also noticed that she wasn't looking at me. She couldn't have missed the hat's loud announcement, so why focus so intently on her porridge now? Unless... unless she _expected_ me to sit elsewhere and didn't want to see it? Because watching yet another student shun her would be more than she could bear?

Well, crap.

Knowing what the right thing to do was, I headed straight for the seat opposite her, ignoring all the hands and faces that were encouraging me to sit elsewhere.

I tried to focus on the feelings I initially had when I first shook her hand in the Leaky Cauldron — on how nice she was at the beginning, how friendly she was to me, and how generous it had been of her to volunteer to spend her day helping me. Given all that, she couldn't be that bad, right? Maybe she was just having an off-day yesterday?

"Hi!" I said as I dropped into my seat, startling her so much that she almost knocked over her bowl and accidentally stuck her elbow into the butter dish next to her.

"What?" she asked. At least, I think that's what she asked — it was awfully close to an incoherent squeak, to be honest.

"Hi!" I repeated. "I'm Amy. Amy Potter? We met yesterday?"

"Yes! I mean, I know that." She looked around at all the intensely curious faces staring at us, then continued in a very low, timid voice, "Why are you sitting here?"

"Why wouldn't I sit here?" I asked. "Not only are you the only student I know, but you actually gave up your entire day yesterday to help me." Her cheeks turned slightly pink at that. "I thought... you know, that you wanted to be friends. Did you change your mind? Did I really make that bad of an impression?" The fact that **I** was the one who had considered changing my mind and **she** was the one who had made the bad impression was something I figured was best left unsaid.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean..." She started biting her bottom lip — God, she was cute when she did that. "It's just... well, no one ever wants to be my friend. At least, not after they spend a little time with me. I've been told I can be a bit bossy..."

It was **so** hard to not snort in agreement at that.

"...And I know that I must have rubbed you the wrong way yesterday, despite how hard I tried to be helpful. I noticed how cold you were to me at dinner, so I figured... well, I figured that you were like everyone else."

It occurred to me just then that as a fourth-year, she probably didn't have a lot of opportunities to make new friends anymore — everybody already knew each other, and it looked like they had all decided that she wasn't worth bothering with. And of course, she was right: I **had** been like everyone else, until about sixty seconds ago. My heart went out to her at the thought that I might be her last chance at having a friend — a thought that had to be going through her mind, too. I cringed at the realization of just how much my ignoring her at dinner the night before must have hurt. _Go on, twist the knife around a bit more — I think you missed a spot..._

"Oh, I'm sorry — I guess I was just tired after such a long day," I said lightly, not wanting to rehash the real reasons I had been mad at her — they didn't seem quite so important now. "Moving from America to Europe isn't easy." She finally looked up into my eyes and started to smile, ever so slightly. "And I can promise that I am **definitely** not like anyone else you know," I added, resolving then and there that I wouldn't be. When her smile widened a little, I held out my hand. "Friends?"

"Friends!"

I felt that tingle again when we shook hands and wondered if it was something that witches and wizards commonly experienced. Then I saw how pretty her face was when she smiled like that. Wow... how had I not noticed that before?

* * *

Breakfast started out somewhat slow and stilted, but both of us eventually relaxed enough to have a decent conversation — certainly better than any from the previous day. When she wasn't being bossy, it was easier to see just how smart she was (and how helpful she wanted to be, which I knew I'd need). Not only did she know a lot about magic, but she was fairly well-read in muggle subjects, too, which had me looking forward to future discussions with her even more.

All of the gawking from the rest of the students was annoying, but it seemed that we both had experience with ignoring others, so it wasn't too bad. There were two students and a professor whose behavior were especially noteworthy, though.

"Any idea why the redheaded boy here keeps looking at me?" I asked. "And why is his face so flushed? I mean, is he ill or something?"

Hermione's face darkened, and I wondered what was wrong before she finally said, "That's Ron Weasley. His sister, Ginny, is sitting across from him, and his twin brothers are farther down the table."

I took a look. _Nope, no family resemblance there..._.

"I don't know why his face is so red," she continued. "I know that a lot of people were looking forward to meeting you back when I first came to Hogwarts, so he might be a fan of some sort. I wouldn't know — we don't really talk."

"I take it you two don't get along?"

Her face went from dark to positively stormy, but she managed to get her emotions under control again. "You could say that. Mostly I avoid him, though it's impossible sometimes, like when he and Malfoy get into a row."

"Malfoy?"

Hermione cast a quick glance over her shoulder. "See that pasty-faced blonde over on the far side of the Great Hall? That's Draco Malfoy." I nodded, having already noted that he kept staring at me, too, though he wasn't quite as obvious about it as Ron. "His family is rich, and he's the most arrogant, bigoted prat you'll ever meet. He's constantly laying into Ron because the Weasley family is pretty poor, and of course Ron always rises to the bait." She paused for a moment before continuing, "He also has lots of nasty things to say about muggleborn students like me. I try to ignore him, though, hoping that if I don't react, he'll find someone else to bother."

I sighed, recognizing the sort of behavior she was describing and not wanting to get involved in it any more than she obviously did. "Why don't the professors step in?" I asked.

Hermione shrugged. "That's a good question. Part of it might be that Professor Snape seems to favor Malfoy."

"Snape?"

"He's the Head of House for Slytherin as well as the Potions professor." Hermione looked up at the staff table, then pointed out a sallow-skinned man with a hooked nose and greasy black hair who seemed to spend the entire meal sneering in my direction. "He's very strict and seems to know a lot about potions, but I have to admit that he can be a bit... unfriendly."

I considered asking Hermione more about them, and perhaps a few others, but it occurred to me that making them our focus would be exactly the wrong thing to do. What little relationship we currently had was still fragile, and she had clearly been treated badly by people at the school — worse than she deserved, no matter how poor her social skills — so I kept the attention on her, asking her about her life and interests for the rest of breakfast.

Both of us parted in a much better mood than we had started out in, and while Hermione left to go to her first class of the day, I headed to the office of Professor McGonagall, where I knew she and Bruce had been talking. The first thing I noticed after entering the room was that the atmosphere was just a bit tense. These two seemed to be getting along reasonably well the day before, so I naturally wondered what went wrong, but I didn't dare ask openly.

"Good morning, Miss Potter," McGonagall said as I took a seat. "Your guardian and I have worked out an... acceptable schedule for you."

"Professor McGonagall was reluctant to let you do so much with self study, not to mention allow you so much time for your normal education," Bruce said. In just a few words, he conveyed volumes about what must have been a rather serious disagreement between the two of them.

"Congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor, by the way," McGonagall said. "It's the house your parents were in, and I'll be your Head of House." My eyes widened — I hadn't known that. I still had a lot to learn about my parents, but it was nice to think that there'd be one more thing connecting me with them, at least for however long I'd be at Hogwarts.

Bruce cleared his throat, and McGonagall continued, "Yes, well, moving along. Mornings will be for muggle subjects and self-study. We'll try to arrange for a room here in the castle in order to save you the time you'd need to spend travelling between here and your guardians' home in Hogsmeade. Every afternoon you will spend two to four hours with a professor for intensive one-on-one training: Mondays with me for Transfiguration, Wednesdays with Professor Flitwick for Charms, Tuesdays and Thursdays with Professor Moody for Defense, and Fridays with the Headmaster, where you'll cover a variety of topics — magical history, culture, and the like."

"What about the other subjects?" I asked, noticing that there were several she hadn't mentioned.

"The rest you'll do mostly through self-study and the help of student tutors." McGonagall looked briefly at Bruce before adding, "Mr. Wayne assures me that you'll manage just fine that way."

"I have the utmost confidence in Amy's abilities."

"Indeed," McGonagall responded. "I have already spoken with five students who are willing to help you with different subjects, pending your approval, of course. Mr. Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor can help you with Herbology. Miss Hermione Granger, also from Gryffindor, can help you with the self-study portions of Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense. Miss Padma Patil and Miss Susan Bones can help with the two electives you were interested in, Arithmancy and Runes. And finally, Miss Daphne Greengrass can help with Potions and Astronomy. We expect that Astronomy is the one class you can probably start taking almost immediately with your peers, given your prior knowledge of the subject from muggle sources, but Miss Greengrass can tutor you in how it differs in the magical world — for example, its effects on gathering ingredients for and the brewing of potions."

I nodded throughout her explanation, but the more she spoke, the more overwhelmed I felt. It was only then that I started to realize just how daunting my workload was going to be... and we hadn't even touched upon the tournament yet!

"Obviously your education will be focused on the most important material, especially in the context of what you might have to face in the tournament," McGonagall said, almost as if she could read my mind. "Members of staff cannot give you any help and certainly cannot tell you what the upcoming tasks are, but we can tailor your assignments in ways that we know will be the most... useful. I suggest you keep that in mind." I nodded once again, thankful that they'd be able to do at least that much.

"So long as you don't have any objections to those tutors, I'll arrange for you to meet with them as a group, and you can work out a schedule that works best for all of you. Please remember that they are voluntarily giving of their free time to help you."

"How did you decide on those students in particular?" Bruce asked casually.

"Oh, well..." McGonagall answered, looking at her notes. "Headmaster Dumbledore and I looked over the top students in each subject, and he recommended these names. He was also the one who suggested that I approach Miss Granger about accompanying us yesterday, in fact."

Bruce nodded. "That was very helpful of him. We'll have to be sure to properly thank these students for their generosity."

"I'm sure they'll all be fine. I look forward to meeting with them," I said.

"Good — I'll see if I can arrange something for tonight after dinner."

* * *

Late that afternoon I found the library, and after wandering around to learn its layout, I came upon Hermione studying alone at an isolated table. I was definitely getting the impression that this was a pattern with her, and I couldn't help but wonder how bad things must have been over the past three years. She startled when I sat down across from her, just like at breakfast, but then I got one of those bright smiles of hers, and somehow I knew I'd made the right decision that morning. For both of us.

It turned out that Hermione was even more eager to be helpful than I'd realized. She was able to give me an introduction to each Hogwarts subject — an introduction that even I, a person lacking any magical background, could understand. By the time we packed up and headed to dinner, I actually felt like I had a good grasp of the basic theory for each class and was eager to get started on the practical lessons. I would have happily begun casting spells right then and there, but Hermione refused to let me try in the library. She was so scandalized at the idea that I began to wonder if she belonged to some fringe religion that treated libraries like holy sites, but it turned out that it was simply against the rules.

After a few hours we headed out to my first dinner at Hogwarts, and I found that other Gryffindors decided to sit a lot closer to the two of us than they had at breakfast or lunch. Their curiosity about me had finally grown more powerful than whatever aversion they had to Hermione, though they still tried to avoid talking to her directly, and I could tell by her pained silence that she noticed.

"Did you really not know anything about magic before you came here?" asked a small redheaded girl whom I recognized as Ginny.

"Well, not before Dumbledore, McGonagall, and someone named Crouch came to my home in Gotham," I answered. "I was lucky that Hermione volunteered to accompany me while shopping in Diagon Alley to answer my questions." Hermione smiled slightly at my effort to pull her into the conversation.

"If you lived all your life with muggles, does that mean all those stories about you are false?" asked the boy Hermione had said was Ron. His face wasn't red in embarrassment this time, though I learned I was right to be a little wary of him. "You never fought a clan of cave trolls? You never rescued a prince from a dragon?"

I hung my head and groaned. Geez, those stupid "Girl Who Lived" books were going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

"What about Portia?" he continued hopefully. "She at least exists, right?"

"Ron, unicorns are magical animals," Hermione said, sounding even more annoyed than I was. "They can't be kept in muggle households."

"Oh, yeah," Ron responded, completely dejected now, as if he had just found out that Santa Claus isn't real.

"What's the matter, Weasel? Did you only just now realize how pathetic your hero really is?" came a sneering voice from behind me. "It was bad enough that the Potter line was sullied by a mudblood being allowed to marry into it, but that was made worse when her spawn was raised like a filthy muggle, ignorant of her magical heritage. She's just damaged goods now."

I turned slowly and looked up into the cold eyes of the angry blonde boy I'd noticed that morning. I didn't understand what a "mudblood" was, but I got the gist of it from the rest of his ugly diatribe. This had to be the rot the Sorting Hat had described as corrupting magical Britain. Frankly, I could understand why it might be so desperate that it would consider a masked vigilante from the muggle world to be a possible solution — if teens could be this bad in public, how much worse were their parents in the privacy of their homes?

I wondered if this was how Bruce felt when he was first confronted with just how violent and corrupt Gotham City was under all the glitz.

"You see," the blonde continued, turning briefly to the other two boys on either side of him before looking back at me with a sneer on his face, "this is why muggles and mudbloods need to be put down. If they aren't, they'll slowly corrupt all of the old families, until there isn't a wizarding culture or wizarding world left anymore."

Oh, yeah — this little snot had to go down. I could tell by the lack of reaction from the others that this wasn't the first time he'd said stuff like this. Well, if there was one thing I figured I'd learned as the ward of Bruce Wayne, it was how to handle rich snobs like this twit. There was a brief moment when I questioned whether Bruce would approve of the plan I quickly came up with, but shoved that aside in favor of taking a stand.

I looked him up and down very slowly, prompting him to ask, "Like what you see, Potty? If you show enough respect to your betters, maybe you'll still have a chance at getting somewhere."

"Betters?" I drawled, tasting the word as if it were a foreign dish. "Surely you aren't referring to yourself, are you?"

"Don't you know who I am?" he demanded.

"The janitor?" I asked innocently, causing several around me to snigger. "Maybe the janitor's son?"

"How dare you!" he cried out. "I'll have you know that the Malfoy family is one of the richest and most powerful families in Britain! There's no one here who can match us, so you'd better be a little bit nicer if you know what's good for you."

"Rich? Powerful? _You?"_ I asked incredulously.

The Malfoy boy started turning beet red as someone else at the table offered, "He's not entirely wrong. The Malfoys probably have at least a million galleons in their vaults."

At this the boy puffed out his chest and said, "Easily," but when Hermione laughed out loud he snarled, "What's so funny, mudblood?"

"I just realized," she said as she got control of herself, "how puny that is compared to the value of Wayne Enterprises."

"Actually," I said as I deliberately turned my back on the boy, "it's puny compared to the personal fortune of Bruce Wayne. The value of Wayne Enterprises... well, that's several orders of magnitude beyond that yet."

"Oh, right — sorry," Hermione said with a smile.

"Wayne Enterprises?" Malfoy asked. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Everyone besides Hermione looked as confused as he sounded, so I knew I now had to explain in terms that they could understand. Bruce had taught me never to flaunt the wealth I was raised in, but he'd also taught me to use the appropriate tools necessary to put down bullies. I was sure that this situation was an exception to that first principle.

"You really should learn not to enter a situation as ignorant as you've clearly done here," I responded, turning back to the boy. "Bruce Wayne is the man who became my guardian and raised me. Depending on the exchange rate between dollars and galleons, I'd estimate his _personal_ wealth alone at... ten million galleons at least."

"That can't be possible," someone at the table said. "There isn't that much gold in all of wizarding Britain!"

I ignored them and continued, "Wayne Enterprises, the company his family founded and which he owns a majority of, is worth _billions_ of galleons. It employs tens of thousands of people all over the world." The Malfoy boy was just standing there, gaping at me.

"You're... you're lying. You have to be," he finally said. Given what I'd learned yesterday about the overall size of Britain's wizarding economy, he was probably having genuine difficulty believing that that much money could even exist.

I shrugged and turned away in dismissal. "Think what you want, but this information is all publicly available in the muggle world, and even widely known in some sectors. There's a lot you're obviously ignorant of — maybe you should do a little more research before you continue to annoy **your** betters, boy."

I heard Malfoy stomp off while everyone at the Gryffindor table started loudly talking to each other about what they'd just heard. I hadn't realized just how little wizards and witches knew about muggles. If they didn't know about Bruce Wayne or Wayne Enterprises, then it was a good bet that they knew nothing about Batman, Robin, or Batgirl... or any of the tactics and tools they used.

That could be very, very useful.

I'd have to be careful around Hermione, though. She already knew too much.

* * *

Late that night, I watched Batman's scowl deepen as he passed his Bat Broad-Spectrum Energy Analyzer over the Goblet of Fire. For a magical castle, it had been surprisingly easy for him and Robin to sneak in via an upper window and then for the three of us to make our way down to the Entrance Hall.

"There are simply too many different and unknown readings for me to make any sense out of them," Batman said quietly as he turned off the analyzer and slipped it into his utility belt. "I'll send the data to the Bat Computer, of course, but I don't hold out a lot of hope that it will be able to tell us very much."

"Someone's coming!" Robin hissed from where he'd been keeping watch. Batman moved behind the Goblet's stand while I stepped into a corner, my sparkling, bright purple costume allowing me to disappear completely in the shadows.

Instead of one of the professors patrolling the corridors, I was surprised to see Hermione jogging through, furtively looking around a tall stack of books as she made her way towards the library on the far side of the castle.

"She probably forgot to return them earlier," I whispered to Batman once she was gone.

"Have you gotten a chance to meet many other students?" he asked, shifting from crimefighter to father-figure now that the investigation of the Goblet was done.

"A few," I said with a shrug. "I met with Hermione and the other students who volunteered to help tutor me, and they all seem nice enough. Daphne Greengrass is a bit standoffish, Neville Longbottom seems incredibly shy, and Susan Bones was really friendly. There are a couple of other students, though, who will probably cause me trouble in the long run." I then related my encounter with Draco Malfoy as well as my concerns about Severus Snape.

"Normally I would just advise you to grin and bear it," Batman said, "but we still don't know who's responsible for your name coming out of this Goblet. Be wary around everyone, even those who are friendly; I'll do some investigating into Malfoy and Snape."

* * *

My second dinner at Hogwarts began much like my first, but before I could dish up some food for myself, I noticed Alfred come through the doors to the Great Hall, carrying a large platter covered by a silver dome much like he did at home when serving for a fancy dinner.

"Alfred!" I hissed when he arrived at my seat and began to set dishes in front of me. "What are you doing here?"

"Who's Alfred?" Ron asked, looking very confused.

"Alfred's our butler," I answered. "He's been with the Wayne family since Bruce's father was alive." I watched as Ron's ears went red and wondered what that meant.

"Master Wayne informed me about the confrontation with the Malfoy boy," he answered. "Although he doesn't agree with me, I thought it might help if I reinforced the message you delivered — that he's really just a big fish in a very small pond, so to speak. Since wealthy wizarding families use house elves rather than hire human servants, this seemed like a good plan."

I hadn't expected Alfred to do something like this, but perhaps I should have. He'd always been very protective and supportive of me, two impulses that had warred terribly with each other when he learned of my desire to join Batman and Robin. There wasn't a lot he could do at the time, just like there wasn't much he could do to help me now.

So when he saw something, anything he could do to help, he leapt at it.

It suddenly occurred to me that if Bruce didn't agree with Alfred, what did he think of my own actions? "Is... is he mad at me?" I asked quietly, and Alfred gave me a sad smile.

"No, he's not mad, though he doesn't agree with how you chose to handle things." I cringed at that, though I tried hard not to let it show too much.

Just as Alfred was finishing, a bizarre little creature with bat-like ears and huge, bulging eyes suddenly appeared next to him. "What you be doing here?" he demanded. "Serving the Great Missy Amyrilly Potter Ma'am is being Dobby's job! Dobby be making food for Missy Amyrilly Potter Ma'am since breakfast yesterday!"

"What's a Dobby?" I asked.

"Dobby be a house elf," the little creature answered proudly.

"Yes, Dobby be... I mean, Dobby is a house elf," Hermione said, still looking at the small creature. "He used to belong to the Malfoys, but I helped him trick Draco's father into freeing him. He's... well, he's rather taken with the Girl Who Lived."

"Belong?" I asked with a frown. "Like a slave?"

Hermione nodded. "House elves are owned, bought, and sold. Unfortunately, they seem to depend on the magic of wizards and witches, so don't want to be freed. Well, most don't. When I first learned about them, I tried to help them get free, but the Hogwarts head elf helped me realize that what I was doing wouldn't work. That was my first year, and the next year I encountered Dobby, an elf who _did_ want to be free. He warned me about... well, things that were happening, and I later helped him get his freedom."

"Being served by the Malfoy family's former elf isn't a bad plan, either," Alfred interjected, "but I still think I'm best for the task." He looked down at the scowling Dobby and continued, "I have served the Wayne family for decades, including Amy. In addition, I am also one of her guardians because we are distantly related. I am serving her now to prove a point to certain wizards and witches: they need to learn that Miss Potter has status in both worlds, and that on the muggle side she has access to far more power than they can imagine."

Dobby narrowed his eyes and seemed to think on this before saying, "Dobby is understanding Mr. Alfy man, so Dobby not be doing anything... this time. But Dobby be waiting to serve the Great Missy Amyrilly Potter Ma'am for many years, and Dobby be doing that in the future. One way or another." With a snap of his fingers he disappeared, leaving us all to wonder what he meant by that.

"He's not any sort of threat, is he?" I asked Hermione.

"Oh, no!" she insisted. "Although he's never said it directly, I've long had the impression that he's always wanted to serve and help you. He was terribly sad to learn you weren't at Hogwarts, but when he warned me about things that were happening, he said it was what the Great... well, what you would have wanted. He seems to idolize you."

"Having the loyalty of a house elf might prove useful. By your leave, Missy Amyrilly, Ma'am," Alfred said with a twinkle in his eye, but before he could turn to leave he was stopped by the greasy-haired professor who'd been sneering at me every time we were in the same room.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he drawled.

"Serving Miss Potter," Alfred answered.

"I realize that the pampered little princess might be having difficulty being separated from her wealth," the professor said, casting a sneer in my direction, "but here at Hogwarts we don't cater to the whims of spoiled children. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave and not return, while I see to Miss Potter's punishment." Only then did I realize that by trying to get Malfoy to understand that he isn't as big of a fish as he thought, I'd risked arousing the resentment of others — exactly the reason Bruce had always insisted that wealth not be flaunted.

I felt about two inches tall at that moment.

"No."

"Excuse me?" Snape asked incredulously, clearly unused to being challenged.

"I said no," Alfred reiterated with a bit of steel in his voice. "We have permission from the Headmaster to enter the castle to help Miss Potter. And of course, it is up to us to determine what sort of help is required. You cannot bar me from the castle, and you cannot punish Miss Potter for my being here. Good day." With that, he moved around Snape and strode out of the hall.

I thought I heard Snape growl as he stalked up to the head table to argue with the Headmaster, and across the Great Hall, I could see Malfoy's face shift continuously from confusion to anger and back again.

Very self-consciously, I started in on the meal Alfred had brought. I couldn't very well _not_ eat it at that point, could I? Hopefully, though, I could convince him not to do this again. I also needed to find some way to apologize to Bruce — it was clear to me that I still had a lot to learn.

* * *

Life at Hogwarts soon fell into a routine. Most mornings were spent studying muggle subjects in an unused classroom, often with Dick tutoring me since he was so advanced. Afternoons were spent working on my own on magical subjects combined with personal instruction from the professors. Weekends were spent working with my student tutors, though I also spent a big chunk of most evenings studying alongside Hermione. I did my work while she did hers, but it seemed that at least half her time was spent answering my questions and checking my essays. It wasn't long before I was forced to wonder how she was completing her own assignments, but she insisted that she was fine.

Magic was amazing, and I could see all around me just how much it was capable of. Then I would try casting magic myself and was left disappointed that I could do so little. Everyone kept telling me that I was progressing very quickly and might even finish most of the first-year material by Christmas, but I constantly felt inadequate — especially when I considered how much I was capable of doing with the skills Bruce and Dick had taught me.

Even worse, merely completing first-year material a month _after_ the first task was hardly something to be pleased about.

Hermione made a point of trying to cheer me up and encouraged me to keep working at it. She was rarely gentle about it, though her scolding was still better than Igor nipping at my ear whenever he thought I was being childish or too hard on myself.

"The professors are right, you're doing really well," she told me one evening after my whinging interrupted her once too many times, judging by the expression on her face.

"It doesn't feel like it!"

"And how long have you been at it?" she asked.

"Two weeks, I guess," I said, and even I found myself annoyed at how petulant I sounded.

"Two weeks! Two!" she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Do you know how much magic I knew how to do after just two weeks here?"

"Tons, I'm sure, given how brilliant you are," I said defensively.

She was speechless for a moment, working her jaw without anything coming out. "Well, uh, thank you," she finally managed, her cheeks a little flushed. "But even after two weeks, I couldn't do a whole lot. I didn't even learn how to do the levitation charm until I'd been here for two months!"

"Yeah, and I'll bet you did it perfectly the first time, too."

"Well..." she started, and I heard Neville cough loudly in the background. I could have sworn I heard him say "levi-OH-sah" under his breath, and Hermione shot him a quick glare before continuing, "As a matter of fact, I did. But you're getting spells right the first or second time as well."

"I suppose..." I said slowly.

"You are," she said firmly, meeting my gaze, and for a moment I felt like I might get lost in her brown eyes. Then someone coughed, startling us both. I quickly looked away, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

"Thanks, uh... yeah, thanks," I mumbled. "I'll, uh, get back to this."

"Right," she agreed. "Me, too."

* * *

It seemed that every other day there was a new article in the _Daily Prophet_ about me, about Bruce Wayne, or both. I never found out what Bruce said to that Skeeter woman, but it must have worked because all of her articles had a very positive spin about us. Some of the hostility I'd noticed in the school began to dissipate once the articles started appearing. Even better, the portrayal of my life growing up confirmed my statements about the wealth of the Wayne family — which caused Malfoy to shut up for a while — yet also made it clear how far from pompous and arrogant we really were, which seemed to cut short resentment against me for my attempt to put Malfoy in his place.

If I'd kept my mouth shut, those articles probably would have done the job for me without any risk. Bruce probably knew or at least suspected that I'd run into someone like Malfoy and had arranged for the article to counter such a problem before I even walked into the castle.

As for my nights at Hogwarts... well, evenings were spent doing homework alongside my fellow students, but once they were in bed, I took up my usual practice of patrolling — except that I was patrolling the castle's corridors in search of dark wizards and witches instead of the streets of Gotham in search of criminals.

And I was usually accompanied by Igor, who seemed to find the entire exercise rather amusing.

Most nights were quiet as I avoided professors and prefects while ignoring the couples in broom cupboards. The castle was peaceful at night on the whole, with the primary exception being the fact that all the cats seemed to come out and roam then. Well, perhaps I should say that the kneazles came out then.

I was having difficulty dealing with them, something that had been creating friction between Hermione and me because of how much she adored Crookshanks. I couldn't very well explain to her that I'd had a problem with cats ever since I'd spent nearly an entire night tied up by Catwoman as bait in a trap for Batman and Robin.

And even if I could, that incident continued to haunt me in a way I didn't even understand myself. Being tied up and held hostage by Gotham's villains had become routine for me, so why did I get the shivers whenever I thought about Catwoman, standing over me in her skintight leotard as I was tied to that table, slowly running her claws down my body and taunting me in a husky voice about how much fun she was going to have with me if Batman didn't arrive in time to save me?

It confused me greatly, and I avoided thinking about it any more than was absolutely necessary.

Regardless, the anxiety I felt whenever I thought about Catwoman had transferred to cats in general, and to kneazles as well, it seemed — I just didn't like them. I had managed to get used to how intelligent kneazles were, but there was one in the castle that was far more intelligent than the rest, even more so than Mrs. Norris. I could tell by how it moved and scanned the darkened corners, looking for something — probably me, though I was able to avoid getting caught.

Given everything that had been going on at Hogwarts, I gradually reached the conclusion that this kneazle was simply too intelligent for its own good. Although it seemed unbelievable at first, I couldn't avoid thinking that perhaps it had been involved in my entry into the tournament. Dumbledore supposedly put up an age line to keep out underaged students, but would that affect a trained kneazle? If it could put my name in the Goblet, what else might it be capable of? What sort of threat might it still pose to me and the other students?

I thought about consulting Bruce and Dick about what to do, but one night while I was hanging from the rafters in the Entrance Hall I got the opportunity to capture it, so I decided that there was no point in wasting time.

When it finally looked away from where I was hiding in the dark, I threw a batarang into the far corner, causing it to whip around in that direction. Knowing that I had but moments before it recognized the diversion for what it was, I leapt from my perch, extended my cape, and descended almost silently upon the too-smart feline, a black, bat-shaped form against the darkened ceiling. The kneazle was even faster and smarter than I'd expected, turning toward me at the last second, its face shifting into a surprisingly human-looking expression of shock and fear.

A quick spray of Bat Knockout Gas rendered it unconscious, but then I had to decide what to do with it. How do you interrogate a cat, even if it is a magical cat? Perhaps Bruce knew of a way, assuming I could get the cat to him...

"Sneaky four-legs," Igor commented as he landed on my shoulder.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Very sneaky. She doesn't smell like kitty."

"She?" I flipped the limp cat over on its back and checked carefully. "Yep, it's a she. But not like the other cats? Or kneazles?"

"No," Igor insisted, looking very cute when he was confused. "Smells wrong."

"Then I was right to capture her!" I said, feeling quite vindicated. This perfidious pussy had not only been up to something, but she had been allowed to strut around the school like she belonged there, free to pursue her perilous plots to her heart's content! Where all the professors and staff had failed, Batgirl had swooped in to save the day!

I might have actually struck a heroic pose for just a moment.

There was only one thing I could do, and it wasn't long before I was in front of the Headmaster's office, where I tied up the queer critter, then hung her upside down in front of the guardian gargoyle with a note to have it checked over carefully.

My good deed done for the night, I headed for Gryffindor tower and my bed.

* * *

The following afternoon I was pulled out of my Defense training session with Mad-Eye Moody, a former auror, to go to something called "The Weighing of the Wands." I had no idea what it was, and no one had bothered to warn me about it beforehand, making me resent the loss of precious training time even more; but it seemed that I had no choice, so I followed the student who'd been sent to fetch me.

When we got to the corridor of rooms typically reserved for professors, the other student simply pointed out where I was supposed to go and ran to their own class. In their haste, they weren't exactly clear, so I went to the first likely door — one that was already slightly ajar and thus seemed like a good choice.

"Don't just stand there and twinkle at me, Albus! I want this Sassenach up on charges!" That sounded like McGonagall, though I'd never heard her speak with such a strong Scottish accent. Or with such anger — she sounded madder than a wet cat.

"Now, now, Minerva, I'm sure this all just a misunderstanding." So, Dumbledore was there, too, and he sounded a lot calmer than her.

"Misunderstanding?" she screeched. "I've been violated! Trussed up all night!"

Ooh, kinky! I knew now that this couldn't be the Weighing of the Wands, but it sure seemed a lot more interesting. I missed my soap operas from back home.

"I still don't understand why you'd accuse me, of all people," came an oily voice that I recognized as Snape. I knew he couldn't be trusted, and now I was hearing about him attacking other professors!

"As I told Albus before ye got here, I was patrolling in my cat form in the Entrance Hall when I heard a noise. There's been something suspicious in the corridors the past few days, so I've been out a lot more. We all know how much danger Miss Potter is in. Just before I was knocked out, I saw a great, swooping bat shape come at me from the direction of the stairs to the dungeons. Next thing I knew, I was waking up, upside-down and trussed up in ropes with Albus staring at me, those blasted eyes of his twinkling... just like they are now, damn ye!"

My mouth suddenly went bone-dry.

"Minerva, that's hardly strong evidence..."

My heart skipped a couple of beats, then seemed to stop entirely.

"I can't believe... you'd actually accuse me based on _that?_ "

 _Oh, shit!_ I thought. _I didn't know... she can become a cat? That's a thing? And I... Oh,_ _ **shit**_ _!_

"I want satisfaction! **Someone** did that to me, and I'll have their guts for garters!"

Slowly — oh, so very slowly — I backed away from the door, absurdly grateful that stone floors don't squeak when you walk on them. As silently as possible, I went from one door to the next, and as soon as I heard voices, I knocked.

"Well, it's about time," said the man who opened the door, and after a moment I recognized him as Mr. Crouch, one of those who had visited Wayne Manor. "Come in, come in. We need to get started."

As I stepped into the room, I saw the other champions and their faculty representatives, Mr. Ollivander, Rita Skeeter, and a few others I didn't recognize.

"Actually, Albus is still gone and we need to wait for him," a heavy-set man commented softly to Crouch.

"Oh... that's right," Crouch responded. "Why did he leave abruptly?"

"Something to do with Minerva. She looked quite angry when she came for him."

"Wasn't she in the hospital wing all morning or something?"

"I hadn't heard that, but it might be connected. I wonder what could have happened to..."

Fortunately Dumbledore chose that moment to open the door and enter the room, saving me from having to listen to that conversation. I was still on edge from what I'd heard a few minutes earlier, and the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye when he looked at me didn't put me at ease. I wasn't sure if he suspected something or was simply amused at what happened to his deputy... and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, either.

I barely paid attention to everything that happened next. It had something to do with testing to make sure the wands worked properly, which seemed unnecessary in my case since I'd barely had mine for two weeks by that point. Rita Skeeter kept trying to focus on me and put me in the center of group photos, but I refused to stand anywhere but on the side — as far as I was concerned, and as I'd made clear to everyone already, I did not consider myself a champion. Oh, I'd go out there and do my best as a competitor, but I should never have been in this tournament at all, and the last thing I wanted was to distract from the three real champions who had earned the right to represent their schools.

* * *

"Amy, can I talk to you?" Hermione asked as I was pretending to get ready for bed. Hermione often shot me suspicious looks at this time of night, and I was growing worried about her discovering what I was doing. Sharing a dormitory room with several other girls made secrecy very difficult, but I had yet to come up with a solution.

Now, however, she was looking very nervous... even scared, in fact, and I wondered what might be wrong.

"Sure," I said. "What's up?"

"You know Hagrid, the gamekeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures?"

I hadn't had a chance to talk to the man, but there was no way I could miss him. He seemed to have a very friendly, jovial attitude, which made me glad because if someone with his size and apparent strength ever decided to take up a life of crime, Batman would have a lot of trouble taking him down.

When I nodded, she continued, "Well, he's been rather nice to me the past three years. Even though I didn't have him as a professor until last year, he's always been... approachable. He told me once how sad he was that you never showed up at Hogwarts because he was close to your parents when they were students." I hadn't known that, and immediately resolved to meet the man — if I could learn something about my parents from him, it would be time well spent.

"Anyway," she went on, "he asked me to visit him this evening, then took me into the Forbidden Forest. I didn't understand why, but... well, he wanted to show me what the first task was about... and... Oh, Amy!" Whatever she'd seen had really spooked her, because instead of explaining she simply threw herself against me, wrapping me in a hug that would have made the Big Blue Boy Scout envious of her super strength.

Once she stopped sobbing and pulled back a little, I held up one hand to keep her from saying anything. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know." The panic in her eyes was obvious, but I kept talking. "Bruce has already told me about this tournament having a 'tradition of cheating,' and he counseled me not to give in to the temptation to go along with it. Bruce raised me to value the importance of fair play, and I don't want to let him down."

"Are... are you sure?" Hermione asked, tears welling up in her eyes again. "It's... I mean, it's so dangerous!"

At that moment, I came very close to having her tell me anyway. I knew the task would be dangerous — that was apparently the point of this tournament — but anything that scared her that much was probably even worse than I could anticipate.

"I... no, I'm not entirely sure," I admitted to her. "I don't want to die, but I don't want Bruce and Dick to be disappointed in me, either. Their opinion matters to me, more than you can probably imagine. I'm just going to have to go into the task as prepared as I can be."

"That sort of self-control must be so difficult, especially when you know that you're facing such a dangerous situation!"

I nodded. "Like Bruce once told me, all virtues are difficult. That's why they're virtues."

"Oh, Amy!" Hermione cried again before pulling me into another hug, and I was pretty sure I heard at least one rib pop. I considered the possibility of always wearing my armor, just to protect me from Hermione's hugs, but dismissed it because she'd probably notice and start asking awkward questions.

Once I laid down in bed, waiting for the others to fall asleep so I could go on patrol, I realized there was a tingling sensation running up and down my spine. It was a bit like when Hermione and I shook hands in the Leaky Cauldron, but it reminded me even more of what happened when I had flashbacks to being held captive by the Catwoman. That didn't make any sense to me because those memories had absolutely nothing to do with each other, so I shook my head and tried to think about something else. Anything else.

I shivered and wondered what that bushy-haired witch was doing to me.

* * *

What did Hermione learn about the nature of the first task? Has she somehow bewitched our intrepid heroine? Will Amy be prepared despite refusing to listen? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!

* * *

 **A/N: Wizarding Economy!** This isn't necessary to the story, it's just an explanation of how I arrived at the numbers I used above. You won't miss anything if you skip this, but I thought some might find it interesting, especially since my numbers differ so radically from what you typically see in fanfiction.

Where did I get the figure of the Malfoys having a million galleons? Doesn't that seem pretty small, considering how many fanfics try to give Harry billions and billions of galleons? Well, it is small, but it's a lot more realistic. I think those other fanfics, aside from being overblown in what they are doing, are mistakenly using numbers that would make sense in an American context without bothering to convert them. They aren't thinking about what things would be like in wizarding Britain, where the economy is smaller (magic means less to buy), has fewer participants, and is pre-industrial.

To make some guesstimates about the wizarding economy (these numbers aren't precise), I started with America as a model — a wealthy nation, but with huge gaps between the rich and poor. It's also one of the few wealthy nations that still uses a lot of cash, which is key. According to the Federal Reserve, there was approximately $1.39 trillion in circulation in 2015 (I couldn't find figures for 1994). Let's up that to $1.4 trillion, just for simplicity. Around the same time, there were 321 million people in America. That works out to 4,330 dollars for each person in the country. In 1994, that would have been 2,819 pounds. If a galleon was worth 100 pounds (a more realistic exchange rate than Rowling's), that would mean the American economy had about 280 galleons (cash) for each citizen.

Rowling said that the population of wizarding Britain was about 3,000. A more realistic number, based on what she said about the number of students at Hogwarts and other things, is about 15,000. Using figures I arrived at for America, that would mean there is 4,200,000 galleons worth of cash in circulation (in hand, in shops, in vaults) in wizarding Britain. If we increase that by a factor of five, just for the sake of being generous and to take into account the possibility that lots of coins are hoarded rather than spent, we get 21 million galleons. That's not the size of the economy, just the value of all the existing coins.

At a million galleons, the Malfoys have a bit less than a twentieth of all the cash in circulation. That's an unbelievable percentage, and it doesn't include any businesses or investments they own, land, valuables, etc. In 1994, Warren Buffet was the richest American and his _entire net worth_ (much more than his cash on hand) was much less than a fiftieth of the value of the cash in circulation in America. The Malfoys having that much raw economic power helps explain Draco's arrogance and how easy it was for Lucius to get away with things.

What about the student who said that there isn't even 10 million galleons in wizarding Britain? Well, they're right, if we use the original number I came up with. But even if we use the higher number, keep in mind that a random Gryffindor isn't going to know exactly how many galleons are in circulation. What's more, if there are only 21 million in circulation, and if most witches and wizards only ever have a couple hundred on hand (at best), then 10 million will seem like an insanely large amount, making their comment understandable.


	4. The Dragon's Roar

**A/N:** I'm thrilled that people keep favoriting and following this story, and I always love reading your reviews - especially from those who are enjoying the story despite not having expected to. As always, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Look! Up in the Sky!" by Belcris. HP/Justice League crossover. The heroes of one universe make the ultimate sacrifice before their existence is erased, and as a result they irrevocably alter the course of another universe. Basically, several characters in Harry Potter get chosen to absorb the powers of several members of the Justice League. It's very entertaining and after re-reading it, I think that it inspired some of the themes I've used in my "Power of Love" series. Sadly it hasn't been updated in a while, but if you leave some nice reviews, maybe that will encourage some new updates. Harry/Supergirl.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 04 - The Dragon's Roar**

 **Late November, 1994.**

"A dragon? An honest-to-goodness dragon? Are you freakin' kidding me?"

I stared in abject horror at the tiny, hissing model of a dragon that kept trying to bite my thumb. Looking up at the three champions, I could tell from their expressions that each knew in advance about the dragons. It seemed that the "tradition of cheating" was alive and well.

"I guess I'm the only one who decided not to cheat by finding out about them ahead of time," I said pointedly. It made me feel a little better to see all three of them wince slightly.

The other two school heads reacted with decidedly less regret.

"How dare you!" Karkaroff thundered.

"Well, I never!" Madame Maxime sniffed.

"I dare because a blind person could see that I'm right," I said. "And if you've never had anyone tell you that it's wrong to cheat, then perhaps you should surround yourself with a higher class of people."

I turned around and walked away from the two sputtering heads so I could sit and meditate alone. I wasn't surprised by the cheating, but that didn't mean that I had to accept it silently. If I was going to handicap myself by playing fairly and honestly, I was going to make sure the others knew it... and if that distracted them from the plans they'd had so much time to formulate, all the better.

I had just found a little privacy in a curtained-off section of the tent when I heard a familiar, desperate-sounding voice whisper, "Amy?"

"Yeah?"

Suddenly Hermione burst through a flap and wrapped me in one of her rib-cracking, spine-tingling hugs. Luckily for me, this time I was wearing a vest with armor-plated inserts under my robes, though it did nothing to stop the tingling.

"Oh, have you found out yet? Did they tell you what you're going to face?"

"Yeah, I have to steal a golden egg from a dragon. A **nesting** mother dragon," I answered into her hair.

"That's even worse than I thought!" she exclaimed, making me feel oh-so-much better.

"This is what I'm facing. Well, in miniature." I held up the model, now snarling and trying to breathe fire on me. Its determination to do me harm would have been almost cute if it weren't for the fact that I'd soon be facing a much larger and more dangerous version.

"What breed is it?" she asked.

"Hungarian Horntail, they told me."

"Horntail! That's one of the largest, most vicious breeds of dragons in the world! I read all about them, of course, in _Dragons: A History_. They have massive, poisonous spikes on their tails, making the back just as deadly as the front - if you're not killed from being impaled, you'll die slowly and painfully from the poison, plus they don't need to pause long to recharge before breathing fire again (which is among the hottest of any dragon), and they're incredibly agile in the air, which is why more witches and wizards are killed by Hungarian Horntails every year than by all other dragon species combined, and there have even been calls to…."

All of that was said without taking a breath, an amazing skill that I'd been trying to figure out ever since the first time I'd seen her do it. Still, the last thing I needed just then was a detailed account of all the ways I was about to die, so I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her a bit to snap her out of it.

"Hermione! I get it - really, I do," I said. "This is dangerous. But... well, I'll manage."

"Miss Granger, shouldn't you be with the rest of the spectators?" We both looked up to see Headmaster Dumbledore standing a few feet away. Hermione immediately blushed, then gave me a quick, fierce hug before racing back out the tent flap.

"It seems that Miss Granger worries a great deal about you."

"Yeah - I can't imagine why…" I said glumly with a glance at the rampaging little Horntail.

He seemed to take my comment at face value, because he responded, "Miss Granger values your friendship. She hasn't had the best of luck making friends in Hogwarts, I'm afraid." Maybe it was just me, but he sounded a bit older and more tired than usual.

"No surprise there," I muttered under my breath. He heard me, though, and from his expression I could tell that he wanted to hear more. "Oh, it's nothing," I said hastily, hoping to get off this subject. "She's really nice, most of the time, and she really does put in a lot of effort to help. I wouldn't want to say anything bad about her, especially since I know you picked her to be one of the students to help me."

Dumbledore smiled. "As headmaster, I know quite a bit more about my students than they probably realize - both the good and the bad. I can promise that I won't think any worse of her or you, no matter what you say. I am genuinely curious about your opinion."

I studied his face carefully, wondering if there was any hidden meaning behind his comment, before I reluctantly continued. "Honestly, her personality can be a bit… abrasive at times. I know she doesn't mean it," I added quickly, "and she has lots of good qualities, too. But still... she can get **so** annoying. Gentle reminders become nagging; efforts to help become long-winded lectures. I try not to focus on the bad parts, but it's hard sometimes. I'm honestly not surprised that others gave up sooner - and I say that as someone who's genuinely been trying to be her friend."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, I think you're right. But I encourage you to keep trying. Perhaps, with your influence, she will be able to improve her social skills? Few things that are worth doing are easy, and sometimes those things achieved through the greatest effort are the ones which we end up valuing the most." I frowned as I considered his words - it sounded an awful lot like something Bruce would say, for some reason.

"Alright, Headmaster. I'll keep trying. She doesn't always make it easy, but I'll keep trying."

"Excellent," he said, apparently satisfied. "I just wanted to come over here to commend you for not having cheated to get advance information about the nature of the task. Cheating has become so commonplace in some parts of our society that wizards and witches no longer recognize that it's wrong. It's no wonder that corruption has become so prevalent today. I also wanted to tell you that I have the utmost faith in your ability to do well in the first task." His eyes suddenly started twinkling as he added quietly, "Although you do not know much magic yet, I'm sure that your skills are more than up to the challenge of dealing with such a terrible foe."

He then turned and exited the tent. I had no idea what he meant there at the end and once more wondered how much he knew about me. I really couldn't let myself be distracted by that, though, and so sat on the ground so I could calm my frayed nerves and try to relax.

One thing Bruce often repeated was the importance of being calm and centered before entering any fight, and not just those involving physical combat. That's because a person's greatest weapon is their mind, and the mind always works better when you aren't panicked.

Technically, I knew I could just make a show of walking into the arena, stand there for a minute, then give up by walking out again. The contract which the Goblet of Fire had bound me to required that I "compete" but didn't specify how hard I had to try.

But what would Bruce and Dick think of me if I did that? How would they ever trust Batgirl if I started walking away from a fight every time things got a little hot? No, I wouldn't disappoint them by taking the easy way out. I wouldn't ever give them cause to wonder if they could trust me to have their backs. I'd try and I'd succeed, no matter what it took.

As I relaxed, I began to go through my options, my hands reaching automatically for my utility belt. I was hoping to be able to complete the task with magic alone, but I felt better knowing I had non-magical options in reserve. This wasn't the shiny, high-tech belt Bruce had given me along with my uniform once I'd graduated from Dick's training (read: torture) and which might conceivably be recognized by someone. This was Bruce's own belt - his first utility belt which he'd worn before he'd even created the Batman persona and which he had continued to wear for a few years as the Batman. When he gave it to me, he told me that he couldn't think of any better place for it to be than around my waist, helping me in the Tournament.

...Okay, so it was a little big, but after a bit of special tutoring from Hermione (I didn't want her to look at it too closely), I managed to cast a careful shrinking charm on it, and now it stayed up just fine.

I still hoped that I wouldn't have to use any of the tools on the belt because I really wanted to be able to finish this task using magic. Somehow. Nevertheless, it was good to have options.

One by one, the champions were all called out to compete. Soon I was alone in the tent, and as the breathing exercises did their work, I actually managed to achieve a semblance of calm. I had magic, I had a fully-stocked utility belt, and I had been trained by the best. I could do this, right?

* * *

Oh. My. **GOD** ….

Honestly, that little model simply didn't do justice to the reality of looking into the cold eyes of the real mother dragon. She was longer than a semi truck - and that was before the huge, spiky tail - and half as tall as the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower when she reared back her head. Suddenly I gained an all new appreciation for the word "terror."

If only Jonathan Crane could see me now, huh?

But I had been trained well and didn't show any of that fear. At least, not enough for the spectators to notice. I hoped.

I could see Bruce and Dick sitting with the professors, and neither of them looked happy. None of the professors looked happy, either (except for Snape - he was looking distinctly cheerful). I could just barely make out Hermione's bushy head amongst all the Gryffindors, and over in the Slytherin section I was pretty sure that they were cheering for the dragon.

There was no time to ponder any of that, though, because the Horntail let loose a blast of fire and I had to dive behind a massive boulder - a boulder which soon got very, very hot. I quickly remembered how the cooling charm had been one of the first spells taught to me by Professor Flitwick. I'd asked why he was teaching me that instead of a warming charm, given how the weather was getting colder, but he just winked and told me to keep working on it.

Well, it sure was coming in handy now, and I sighed in relief as I felt a wave of coolness wash over me. Thinking about magic now, I ran through the list of spells I knew to see which of them might help me against an angry dragon. My instructors had clearly been thinking about dragons when they were teaching me, so what could I do with the magical tools at hand?

Quickly putting together a plan (and all too aware that the dragon fire had heated the boulder to the point where it was starting to overwhelm my cooling charm), I began by silencing my feet so I wouldn't make any noise on the rocky ground. Next I cast _Snufflifors_ to transfigure a half dozen loose rocks into mice. They looked rather disturbing, frankly, since I'd only started inanimate-to-animate transfiguration the previous week, but I hoped they were close enough. Or at least that dragons weren't too picky about how many legs and heads their food had.

Then I cast _Engorgio_ , inflating them to the size of Dobermans. Now they were **really** monstrosities - and kinda rocky monstrosities, to boot. Yeesh.

I closed my eyes and took a moment to catch my breath, not expecting how winded I'd feel after using that much magic in such a short period of time. I then made them feather-light and finally cast _Alarte Ascendare_ on them, one by one, sending the squealing, dog-sized Franken-mice flying up into the air and off to my right. It was impossible to miss the sound of the dragon charging off after what must have looked like a free meal, and I silently ran to the next large boulder to my left, one step closer to the nest and the golden egg.

Unfortunately, those transfigured mice either didn't last long or didn't taste very good, because the dragon was back and blowing fire a lot more quickly than I had hoped. That wasn't nearly as bad as what I discovered once I was behind my new boulder: there weren't enough boulders to help me get all the way to the nest. There was a huge gap between the nest and the last boulder, and I'd need two more sets of flying Franken-mice just to get that far.

Plus, I wasn't at all sure that the dragon would be fooled beyond one more set of those mice, assuming I had the strength to transfigure that many. So, yeah, my wonderful plan had several huge holes in it, and I was only just finding out now.

Seriously, I'd rather have taken on Bane, Killer Croc, and Clayface all at once and by myself than deal with this stupid dragon!

That thought reminded me that I had more tools than just magic, though I felt a surge of frustration that I probably wouldn't be able to come up with an all-magical solution to the task. A small part of my brain wondered if maybe I shouldn't force myself to rely more on magic, perhaps by developing ways to integrate my magic with my other skills; but that was an issue for another time - I had bigger and hotter problems to deal with.

"Grappling gun?" I muttered as I examined the contents of my belt, trying to determine what could possibly be used against a dragon. "No, I don't want to climb it. Tranquilizer gun? No, the scales are probably too tough. Rebreather? Maybe if the smoke gets too bad. Live fish? Hmm..."

I had objected when Bruce insisted that I leave the live fish in my belt, piously reminding me that "a true crimefighter always carries everything he needs in his utility belt." At my dubious expression, he added that having a live fish had once helped him deal with Mr. Freeze. I looked at the trout flapping about in my hand, then quickly cast _Engorgio!_ before sending it flying in the air, hoping that a real treat would help ensure that my transfigured mice would work at least one more time.

"Lock pick? Nope. Thermite grenades? I doubt more heat will help. Stun pellets? I don't have enough for something that big. What the...? I forgot all about this! It's perfect!"

I didn't waste any more time because the dragon was already back. Another half dozen rocks were transfigured and sent flying. This time, instead of running to the next boulder while the dragon was distracted, I stepped out and headed straight for the dragon herself. I ignored the cries of shock from the stands as I came up on the dragon from what I hoped was her blind spot. As she turned from where she was crunching on the screaming mice, I raised my can of Dragon Repellent Bat Spray and let her have it right in the face.

The deadly dragon immediately reared back, shaking her head and clawing at her face as she tried desperately to get rid of the caustic chemicals that were assaulting her eyes and nostrils. I dove out of the way as she blindly swung her tail, pleased to see that she was trying to move away from the source of the pain: me. This allowed me to silently make a run for the nest. Resisting the urge to pause and strike a heroic pose, I simply grabbed the golden egg and ran like hell for the exit, where Madam Pomfrey was already waiting.

* * *

"I'm alright, honest! I don't have a scratch on me!" My training included being acutely aware of my health and physical status - you can't go into a fight without knowing exactly how well everything is working - but Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to believe me.

"I'll be the judge of that," Pomfrey said tartly. "I'm responsible for the health of all the students here, and **I'll** be the one to say if you're healthy." After casting several diagnostic spells on me - all of which I realized would probably be good to learn - she harrumphed and seemed faintly disappointed that I was indeed just fine.

"Very well, I'll go check on the other champions," she said before returning to another partition of the medical tent, from which I could hear more than one person moaning in pain.

Before I could leave, Bruce and Dick entered the tent - Bruce looking thoroughly pleased and Dick still looking worried.

"Are you alright?" Dick asked. "Any injuries?" I could see his sharp eyes going over every inch of me, searching for any sign of damage.

"Nope, not a scratch," I said, almost giddy now with relief. I'd done it!

Dick nodded in approval. "That was probably the closest call I've ever seen you in. I'll admit, I was pretty scared there for a bit."

"I, on the other hand, wasn't the least bit scared for her," Bruce countered jovially, laying his hand on my shoulder.

"Not at all?" I asked, wondering why he hadn't been worried - **I'd** been scared out of my wits!

"Of course not. Haven't you ever noticed how often and easily we escape the vicious ensnarements of all our enemies?"

"Well, sure," Dick said. "But that's because we're smarter and better than they are, right?"

"No, Dick," Bruce said, gazing off into the distance. "I believe it's because our hearts are pure." He then looked down fondly at me before adding, "And who among us has a purer heart than our dear Amy?"

I beamed at his praise, then toppled over backwards as I was struck in the chest by a bushy-haired missile that had just come flying through the tent's entrance.

 _OK -_ _ **now**_ _I'm injured and need Madam Pomfrey's help_ , I thought.

Bruce and Dick just stood there grinning as Hermione started another breathless rant about how awful it was that students were forced to face dragons, how horrible it was that mother dragons and their eggs had been put at risk, how terribly scared she'd been when I walked out into the arena, looking so small in contrast to the dragon, and how angry she was that I'd actually stepped out of cover to face the dragon head-on. There was more, I'm sure, but I tuned her out and focused on the shoulder that had gotten twisted when I landed on my back.

I was also distracted by the strong, pleasant tingling sensation resulting from having her on top of me, the ache in my shoulder notwithstanding.

A very loud cough from the tent's entrance stopped Hermione mid-rant, and looking through her hair I thought I could make out who it was.

"Hello, Headmaster," I said, causing Hermione to squeak and jump to her feet. I didn't understand why she was blushing so hard, I was just glad I could breathe again. With some effort, I stood.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said. He gestured behind him, drawing everyone's attention to the fact that the rest of the judges had accompanied him. "We, that is to say the judges, are curious about how exactly you drove off your dragon. You didn't seem to use your wand, and it wasn't a spell any of us recognized."

"It wasn't a spell," I replied. "It was a chemical spray."

"Muggle?" Dumbledore asked, and I nodded.

"Oh, mace is very common in the muggle world," Hermione interjected. "A lot of muggle women carry it to protect themselves from attackers. It doesn't cause any permanent harm; instead, it incapacitates an attacker and drives them off, giving a potential victim time to escape. It's a less concentrated form of tear gas, a non-lethal weapon used by muggle military and police forces."

I nodded in agreement, happy to let her impromptu lecture work to my benefit for once, even though she had naturally leapt to the wrong conclusion.

"Muggle weapons?" Karkaroff asked with a sneer. "You can't use muggle weapons in a magical tournament! You cheated! We should vote to have you immediately disqual—"

"No, Igor," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "There is nothing in the rules which prohibits the use of any muggle tools, which means she cannot be disqualified for employing them. Besides, we can hardly complain when a person with less than a month's training in magic reaches for the muggle tools she's accustomed to, now can we?" I thought I could detect a slight smile through his beard as he said the last, but I was distracted by Karkaroff growling in annoyance and stalking out.

The other judges followed him almost immediately, and their opinions about my methods were quickly made clear. Dumbledore gave me a 9 and Bagman gave me an 8, suggesting that they were pleased with my performance. Madame Maxime gave me a 7, probably because of my insult before the task started, and Karkaroff gave me a 2. This put me in last place, far behind the others, and there was a lot of booing of Karkaroff for his incredibly low score.

"Take heart," Bruce said as he clapped me on my shoulder. "There are still two more tasks yet to go."

"I doubt that Karkaroff will be any fairer when scoring them," I said with a sigh.

"Probably not, but remember that Good, even though it's sometimes sidetracked, always - repeat, **always** \- triumphs over Evil."

* * *

Dinner that day was replaced by a victory party in the Gryffindor tower. The celebration was far more raucous than anything I was used to - Bruce sometimes celebrated important victories, but he didn't go any further than a toast with ginger ale in champagne flutes. He didn't believe that it was proper to "gloat" over the defeat of one's enemies.

Since the party was supplied from the Hogwarts kitchen, the food wasn't any better than we'd get if we actually went to dinner, but the atmosphere was nice. I didn't want to be a wet blanket, so I graciously accepted everyone's congratulations and went along when they encouraged me to open the egg; then I had to apologize profusely when I nearly burst everyone's eardrums with the screeching that came out.

Maybe Bruce is right about parties after all.

"I can't believe how much danger they put you in," Ron said at one point. "I was a little jealous at first that I wasn't chosen to compete, but after I saw the first dragon brought out..." He shivered a bit and looked apologetically at me. "You were really amazing though. Heroic, even, in how you marched right up to that dragon and attacked! It was even better than those stories about you!"

"Um, thanks," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable with how eager Ron was looking in his praise of me. I fed Igor another strawberry. He wasn't a fructivore like non-magical fruit bats, but he did love fruit as a treat. And after what happened to me today, he was sticking close in his desire to protect me. I thought it was cute how he kept coming up with more and more elaborate things he intended to do to any other dragon that dared threaten me.

"I was shocked, too," Hermione said, helpfully turning the conversation away from Ron's hero-worship, "but in retrospect, I really shouldn't have been." At Ron's questioning look, she continued, "Don't tell me you've forgotten all of the dangerous situations that have occurred here over the past few years?" Ron scowled at her, and I wondered if this was going to blow up into another fight.

Ron and Hermione didn't get along, which wasn't too surprising. Ron clearly had a very low tolerance for the sort of attitude and behavior that Hermione typically exhibited. Unfortunately, Ron also wanted to be near me - almost desperately, at times. Since I was actively trying to form a friendship with Hermione, that meant Ron had to spend more time around her as well, and that inevitably led to epic arguments between the two of them.

"Surely, Ron, you remember the troll?" Hermione said acidly. The bitter look she gave him was the first time I'd ever seen her truly angry, and he paled at the reminder of whatever had happened.

"Troll?" I prodded, noting that Igor seemed to shiver slightly at the mention of the word.

"It was our first year," Hermione explained. "I'd... I'd been having a bad day. Worse than usual." She shot Ron an even nastier look than before, and it didn't take much imagination to guess why her day had been bad. "I went to have a good cry in the girl's loo and was there until well into dinner. Unfortunately, a troll managed to get into the castle and found its way to the same loo."

"And a troll is...?" I asked.

"It's about ten to twelve feet tall, all muscle, and carries a huge club," Hermione answered. "It probably heard me, or something. When it came in, it started smashing everything in sight. I... I froze. I didn't know what to do. I only knew about trolls at all because I read so far ahead, but I had no idea how to stop one. And even if I had known more, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to cast the right spells, I was so scared." She stopped at that point and just looked down at her hands, which kept pulling at the hem of her robe.

"She was in the hospital wing for a month being healed," Neville said quietly, since Hermione wasn't able to continue. "It was only because McGonagall came in at the last minute that Hermione survived at all." He, too, was glaring at Ron, who avoided looking at anyone else.

"How are you doing now?" I softly asked the witch sitting next to me.

Hermione shrugged diffidently. "I'm OK most of the time. I... have some exercises I can do when it gets bad."

In that instant, I felt like I could envision her entire first year. She had been teased and bullied until it got to be too much, then at the moment her tough outer shell finally broke, she was attacked by a magical creature that literally broke her body, causing physical injuries that still hadn't fully healed.

I didn't even want to think about the psychological ones.

And given how isolated she still was, it didn't seem like all that much had changed for her, except perhaps for an increased determination to be able to defend herself should she ever face something like that again. It explained why she was so meek and quiet in school, though some of what must have been her original, bossier behavior came out with people she was comfortable with - including me. It even explained her fascination with Batgirl, a young girl who was tough enough to take down terrible foes with many times her size, strength, and experience.

Igor seemed to sense the distress she was trying to hide behind her casual answer and crawled from my shoulder to hers. "Don't be sad, Fuzzy," he squeaked as he nuzzled into her neck under her hair. She had been able to get used to Igor much more easily than I was finding it to get used to Crookshanks. Unlike the other girls in the dorm, she didn't mind him sitting on her shoulder. He once explained to me that he found it to be toasty warm between her hair and her neck, and that was why he liked to spend so much time with her. Personally, I thought it was more because she started carrying around fruit to feed him.

I absolutely refused to tell her that Igor called her Fuzzy, though.

I wanted to think about what I'd just learned and possibly come to understand her a bit better, but first I needed to gather more information. Alfred's contacts had told him the rumors, but I wanted to hear the facts. "And this wasn't the only dangerous situation to occur during your time here, I take it?" Ron remained silent, just giving me occasional glances, but Hermione and Neville proceeded to regale me with all the life-threatening situations that they'd experienced.

First year not only had a killer troll, but an even larger, three-headed dog guarding a place which the Headmaster himself had warned everyone might kill them. Then, at the end of the year, the Defense professor really was killed under mysterious circumstances. Rumor had it that he died trying to get past the dog or whatever it was guarding, but no one knew for sure, and the staff refused to talk.

Second year saw students and pets getting petrified - including Hermione, who lost another month in the hospital wing. Someone calling themselves the "Heir of Slytherin" claimed responsibility for the attacks, though they were never identified. Draco Malfoy had been a popular suspect since at one point he loudly praised the likelihood of "mudbloods" being killed and the corridors being painted with their blood, but no one could prove anything, and the Headmaster claimed to have ended the threat at the end of the year. I got the impression that Hermione and Ron knew even more than they were saying, but I didn't press.

Third year saw the castle surrounded by dementors, soul-sucking demons which the Ministry normally used to guard their one and only prison. Turns out that internationally wanted terrorist Sirius Black was actually a wizard criminal who had escaped and was believed at the time to be heading for Hogwarts. There were reports that he'd made it here and had even managed to enter, though they never caught him. The dementors did, however, cause widespread depression in the school, to which the staff attributed no fewer than eight suicide attempts, mostly by students struggling with exams.

This year was the tournament, though I seemed to be the only one in danger this time. Not that I found that very comforting.

At the end, even Hermione seemed a bit surprised at just how perilous Hogwarts had been. While she was in the middle of things, it was always just one incident after another. Now, looking back on it after having laid them all out together, she developed a different perspective. We were all considering the ramifications of her presentation when a soft explosion startled us all. Looking over in the corner where the sound came from, we could see what appeared to be a half-student, half-canary creature hopping around.

"And that's the **other** ongoing source of danger in the school," Hermione said with resignation.

"You're lucky - I get it all year round. In fact, if anything it's worse in the summer," Ron said, and Hermione actually gave him a slightly sympathetic look.

"What am I missing?" I asked.

"You've seen the ginger twins, a couple of years older than us?" Neville asked. When I nodded, he continued, "They're Ron's older brothers - Fred and George, though they refuse to tell anyone which is which."

"They fancy themselves to be a couple of jokers," Hermione said with a sigh, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Oh?" I asked, trying hard to keep my tone light.

"They're always playing pranks, thinking that they're funny, but their victims aren't always laughing," Hermione explained.

"'Victims' is right," Ron added. "I've been the target of their pranks, as well as a guinea pig for them to test new ones on, for as long as I can remember. Couple of right bastards they are sometimes, even if they are my brothers." For a moment Hermione looked like she was about to chide him for his language, but apparently she thought better of it.

As unhappy with Ron as I had been earlier, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him now. If he'd been the target of "pranks" for the last decade or so, he'd likely have all sorts of problems.

"Just how bad is it?" I asked.

"It varies," Hermione said with a shrug. "Their electric shock shake is supposed to be very painful, but few people have any reason to shake their hands. Their magical moustache is pretty tame, but only until the hair grows so long that you start tripping over it."

"They have a candy they call ton-tongue toffee that makes your tongue grow to an enormous size," Neville said. "That wasn't so bad once they got it working, but early on they couldn't reverse it, and Ron had to go to Madame Pomfrey a couple of times to get fixed up." I saw the other boy's ears go red in embarrassment and decided not to ask more.

"Maybe someone needs to teach them the difference between a harmless prank and bullying," I said casually as I watched the laughing twins on the other side of the room.

"Mum sends them a howler every other week, and they already hold the record for the most detentions ever given in Hogwarts," Ron said morosely. "I don't see how anyone else will get through to them."

I just smiled to myself.

* * *

At dinner the following evening, Alfred appeared once again. He'd agreed with me that it would be unwise to come in every evening, and we both had to apologize to Bruce for not trusting his planning. Alfred had insisted, however, that occasional appearances on special occasions would still be useful. Apparently, surviving the first task without an injury was a "special occasion," even though I was dead last in points.

"What's this?" I asked as Alfred uncovered my dinner. It looked rather like a large steak, maybe prime rib, but there was something very odd about it.

"Dragon steak, ma'am." My eyes widened in surprise - I'd never considered the possibilities of magical cuisine like this.

"That's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed, earning her several looks of derision from nearby students who had finally begun sitting closer to us.

"Dragon steak is quite the delicacy," Neville said. "It's uncommon because not too many dragons are killed and harvested, but it's not as though they were sentient, thinking creatures like merpeople."

"Doesn't your wand have a dragon heartstring core?" Ginny asked pointedly, and Hermione raised her wand to look at it as if she'd never really seen it before.

"Oh, yeah," she said softly.

Ron seemed to be drooling as I cut off my first bite, but before I could sample it there was a pop behind me, signaling the arrival of a very irate-looking Dobby. I could actually hear him growl softly before he popped away again. I shrugged and took the bite, revelling in the amazing new taste.

"This is incredible, Alfred - where did you learn to cook it?" I asked. "I mean, I have to think that cooking dragon steak is different from cooking regular steaks." I made sure to cut off a small piece and give it to Igor, who had been making excited noises on my shoulder ever since the plate had been set in front of me.

"There's a nice young lady who owns a popular eating establishment down in Hogsmeade, and she consented to instruct me in how to prepare this as well as several other dishes popular in wizarding Britain."

"Y-you mean, Madam Rosmerta?" Neville asked, almost in awe.

"Yes, that's her name. She's a delightful young woman, and we spent many an hour in her hot kitchen, working very closely as she provided instruction." Alfred shot me a quick wink, and I struggled not to laugh as all the boys around me got a little glassy-eyed.

Just then, Dobby returned with his own dish - one that seemed to be moving, in fact.

"Dobby is noticing how much Missy Amyrilly Potter Ma'am be liking treacle tart, so Dobby is making special dessert!" he proclaimed proudly as he set the serving dish down. I could see that he'd made what appeared to be treacle tart, except that this was in the shape of a dragon - a moving dragon that was puffing out little balls of smoke from its snout.

"That's really impressive, Dobby," I said to him. "I don't think I've ever seen animated food."

Dobby shot Alfred a triumphant look, but his expression fell slightly when I added, "I'm sure it will be the perfect ending to this amazing steak dinner." I appreciated both their efforts and wasn't going to choose between them. Alfred had helped raise me and was like a grandfather to me; Dobby I'd only just met, but from what I'd heard he'd been abused all his life and deserved to be praised for what he did.

It was a problem that I doubted even the Great Detective could solve.

Finally Dobby nodded and thanked me before popping away, while Alfred simply quirked an eyebrow before inclining his head and leaving himself.

It was easily the tastiest dinner I'd had since coming to Hogwarts, forcing me to reconsider having Alfred come by more often, but my enjoyment of the meal was undermined when I heard the arrogant, annoying voice behind me.

"I'm surprised that they're even letting you stay here in Hogwarts, never mind continue in the tournament. Both are intended for witches and wizards after all, not muggles masquerading as magicals."

I turned towards the sneering face of Draco Malfoy and asked, "What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be scrubbing floors somewhere?"

"Don't presume to place yourself above a wizard," Draco retorted, making it clear that he hadn't learned anything from our last encounter. "This is a school for magic, not muggles. If you can't be bothered to use magic, then you don't belong here. You should be sent back to live with the filth you grew up with. I don't care how many galleons you claim they have - if they aren't magical, then they're little more than animals, no better than goblins."

"Shut your mouth, you slimy little git! She's worth ten of any Slytherin, and a hundred of you!" Ron shouted, half standing from his seat. I'd heard that he and Malfoy had developed a fierce rivalry over the past few years, but I was still surprised to see the redhead react so strongly to the other boy's words, especially since they were directed at me rather than him.

"You overstep your bounds, Weasel," Malfoy said. "As a blood traitor you aren't much better than a muggle, so you shouldn't risk what little status you have by defending a subhuman little bint who can't or won't use magic."

A couple of students gasped, and Ron even went so far as to pull his wand. "How dare you! I'll..."

"You'll do nothing, Weasley," came an oily voice that was approaching from behind us. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for pulling your wand on another student and a week's worth of detentions."

"But he insulted Amy!" Neville protested.

"I heard no such thing," Snape responded. "Another ten points from Gryffindor for telling tales, Mr. Longbottom." He then turned to Draco and said, "Mr. Malfoy, it's beneath you to consort with inferior students unable to perform magic. Although…." He looked at me disparagingly, and contempt fairly dripped from his words. "I do have to wonder why Miss Potter is wasting the staff's time if she can't or won't use the magic they are trying to teach her. Perhaps she is too much like her father - too arrogant to bother learning anything new?"

My eyes narrowed as I looked at the man, wondering where this animosity was coming from and trying to determine how best to retaliate when Hermione spoke up. "Actually, Professor Snape, Amy used several of the spells which Professors Moody, McGonagall and Flitwick taught her - and very well, too. It's not her fault that she hasn't had time to learn enough to get by without combining those spells with muggle tools."

Snape sneered at her and said, "I wasn't talking to you, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable little know-it-all." Hermione immediately seemed to shrink in on herself.

 **That** did it.

"It's curious," I said with elaborate casualness, "that the only other person thus far to object to my use of muggle tools during the first task was Igor Karkaroff - a convicted Death Eater who only escaped spending the rest of his life in prison because he was also a coward who squealed on other Death Eaters. All rapists and murderers, of course." I looked back and forth between Snape and Malfoy for a second before adding a little more softly, "I wonder what else you two have in common with him?"

Both turned purple in rage, and Malfoy managed to get out, "Wait until I tell my father..." before Snape grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and dragged him back to the Slytherin table on the other side of the Great Hall.

"That was wicked," Ron said with a grin and an expression that looked like... adoration? It made me a bit uncomfortable, whatever it was.

"That was actually quite rude," Hermione said, still looking upset over Snape's comments. "I mean, he wasn't very nice, but that's normal. He's a professor and as such deserves respect." The others rolled their eyes, and I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation. This wasn't the first time I'd encountered Hermione's apparent need to defer to almost anyone in authority, but I hadn't ever seen it expressed in such a knee-jerk manner.

"Hermione!" I said severely. "You certainly know for a fact that his behavior was wrong, yet you're still trying to defend him as an authority figure." I held up my hand to cut off her expected rebuttal. "Yes, I know that professors deserve respect, but only when they do their jobs and **actually act like professionals**. And as we just saw, Snape doesn't do that."

I was sure that Hermione wanted to say "Professor Snape," but she stopped herself in time and instead just looked thoughtful.

"On top of that, I recently learned that Snape was, indeed, at one time a follower of the man who murdered not only my parents, but hundreds of others across Britain. Yes, Voldemort." As expected, everyone flinched when I said that name, but my revealing that bit of information which Bruce and Alfred had discovered captured everyone's attention. "What on earth could justify having him here, teaching the relatives and even the children of those murdered by the monster he chose to follow of his own free will?"

The rest of dinner was eaten in relative silence as everyone pondered what I'd said.

* * *

For almost two weeks I reduced the amount of time I spent on general nightly patrols of the castle so I could focus on studying and stalking my new targets. Given how badly my previous experience with McGonagall had turned out - I still cringed every time I thought of it - I wanted to be absolutely certain about who I was going after and whether it was the right thing to do.

Once I was satisfied, I simply waited for the most opportune moment. Fortunately the wait didn't last long, because despite how clever they thought they were, my prey were creatures of habit: easy to predict and easy to capture.

And so it was that I caught them one night after curfew as they descended the stairs down to the Entrance Hall.

"Hey, Georgie?"

"Yeah, Fred?"

"Didja ever get the feeling... we was being watched?"

...

"Georgie?"

The twin who was named Fred (assuming they used their correct names when alone, which probably wasn't a sure bet) turned around to look at his brother, only to find an empty stairway. I was already in an inverted descent, my head pointing down and my feet towards the ceiling where a cable was stretched between my utility belt and the rafters high up above.

"Boo!" I whispered when I reached his level behind him, causing him to spin around and give a high-pitched squeal of fright when he saw the bat-shaped figure suddenly appear in the gloom. I quickly wrapped a line around him and with a tap at my belt, my cable retracted, yanking us both up at high speed towards the rafters. It was fortunate that I had thought to silence him, too, otherwise his scream probably would have woken half the castle.

It wasn't long before I had the terrible twins tightly entwined in ropes, dangling them upside-down and high above the many moving stairs. I myself was perched deep in the shadows on one of the rafters, deliberately trying to look like a large predator who was ready to pounce on her prey. My intention was to scare them badly enough that I wouldn't have to do this again, so I was pulling out all the stops.

The first step was to just stare at them silently, forcing their imaginations to work overtime. Every so often I would turn my head slightly or shift my gaze from one to the other - they couldn't see any detail, but they saw enough to jerk slightly every time I moved.

"Wh-what do you want?" asked one when the tension became too much for him.

"Wh-who are you?" added the other.

"That will depend on you," I answered in a harsh, raspy voice that made me sound like I'd been gargling gravel. It disguised who I really was and sounded intimidating, but as I desperately fought the urge to cough, I understood why Bruce had quit using it fairly early on.

"Wh-what do you mean?" asked the first.

"I have been watching you these past years, ever since you entered my halls," I said, "and I have despaired as your love of fun and jokes has taken a dark turn towards bullying those who are weaker than you."

"But... but... we haven't…."

"Do not interrupt!" I rasped out harshly, jabbing a finger at the twin who had tried to make excuses. "And do not lie, for I see all. As you try to one-up yourselves, creating bigger and better pranks, you have gone from causing mild embarrassment to outright humiliation and pain."

I paused for dramatic effect, then said, "Look at the two of you now, so frightened that you're shaking. But if you were to do something like this to someone else, you'd say it was just a prank, would you not?"

I could see comprehension dawn as their mouths opened slowly and they looked at each other in surprise.

"The difference between a simple prank and bullying is a question of power," I said as I leaned forward and spoke a bit more softly, forcing them to pay closer attention to me. "You are powerless and at my mercy. You don't know what I'll do or how far I'll go, so this isn't a prank for you. And make no mistake: you **are** at my mercy."

Judging by the expressions on their faces, my plan to make them afraid was working splendidly.

"That's why this is not a prank. Jokes between friends and equals can be pranks," I continued, "But playing jokes on those who are weaker than you is bullying. Not every joke is fun, and not every joker is funny."

"Wh-what are you going to do to us?" one of them asked.

I smirked (not that they could see it) and answered, "I thought about leaving you tied up like this... but naked, and in the Great Hall." All of the blood that must have been going to their heads somehow left as they went remarkably pale. "But I'm not sure I want to see that myself, so I've decided to go with something milder. As a warning."

"A-and what will that be?"

I leaned forward again, slipping a canister of Bat Knockout Spray into my hand. "You'll find out. Just remember that I don't give second warnings. If you don't improve, waking up naked in the Great Hall will be the least of your worries." I quickly rendered them unconscious, then got to work moving them into the Gryffindor common room. I couldn't go through the main portrait entrance, so I had to haul them to a window, swing them over to a Gryffindor window which I'd left open, then get them inside where I could dangle them from the ceiling.

I decided to show them mercy by leaving their clothes on, but I did change their colors to green and silver, just to remind them how much worse it could have been. Their predicament got a lot of laughs from other Gryffindors, but the twins themselves were much subdued in the following days, making me hope that I'd achieved something - not just to help the all the younger students who were being harmed, but to help the twins as well. My study of them had revealed that despite how they used their talents, they were incredibly inventive and clever. Given the right sort of inspiration and direction, I knew that the could really go far.

And to be perfectly honest, my motives might have been a little selfish as well. It was already clear to me that even a little bit of magic, if used intelligently, could be a tremendous aid when fighting crime in the muggle world. It would be a necessity if I followed the Sorting Hat's advice to fight crime in the magical world. I had no idea how far I'd be able to go in my magical studies, but if it turned out that I wasn't very good in the necessary fields, I'd need help, and I was already thinking about how those two smart, original thinkers might be able to provide it.

* * *

It was the second week of December, during a meeting of all of Gryffindor House, that my life took a decidedly bizarre turn.

"...And so on Christmas, Hogwarts will be hosting a traditional Yule Ball," McGonagall informed us, before turning to face me. "And you, Miss Potter, will be expected as a champion to start off the ball with a waltz."

"You mean, I have to have a date?" I asked.

"It would be difficult to waltz alone," she said dryly.

I couldn't believe that they would spring something like this on us at the last minute - a mere two weeks before Christmas itself! I couldn't believe that I had to find a date, review all of my dance lessons (none of which I'd enjoyed, truth be told), and then actually dance in front of everyone!

And why did both my mouth go dry and my hands go clammy every time I looked over at Hermione, who was coincidentally always looking back at me?

I shivered as a tingle ran up and down my spine. I briefly considered asking Bruce about this, because something was definitely wrong with me; but if it was magical, he wouldn't know or be able to help. And I didn't know who else to ask.

* * *

Who will Amy take to the Yule Ball? Will she remember how to dance in time? And what special surprise awaits her on the day after the ball? Tune in next week - same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!

* * *

 **A/N:** A couple of readers correctly divined the appearance of the Dragon Repellent Bat Spray in the first task. I thought you might be interested to know that that, plus something that happens at the end of the third task, were the original starting points for this story. As soon as those gags occurred to me, I knew I wanted to write a story using them. I simply needed to come up with an actual story, and this is the result.


	5. Swinging Dick Has a Ball

**A/N:** Since one person brought this up, I thought I should address the issue here just in case others have had similar concerns: In chapter 3, when Amy is remembering what happened with Catwoman, she is **not** remembering being threatened with rape. Catwoman was making the usual sorts of threats that she'd make with Robin, but Amy's subconscious was having a _very_ different and unexpected reaction. That's why she was so confused and weirded out. More recently, she started having a similar reaction to Hermione, which was even more confusing because she didn't see any similarity between the two. It's only now, in this chapter, that she starts to figure things out.

As usual, I'd like to thank Bonnie and Mainsail for editing this and making it so much better. If you have any questions or concerns, include them in a review or PM and I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Happily Ever After?" by muggledad. Two heroes from two different worlds meet and, against all odds, fall in love. Harry/Supergirl.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 05 - Swinging Dick Has a Ball**

 **Late December, 1994.**

"So, you ready for this?" I looked over at my date for the Yule Ball, noting how stiff he'd become in anticipation of being gawked at by an excited, hungry audience.

"I was born ready," he claimed as he swallowed audibly.

"Really?" I asked, and he wilted a bit, suddenly looking a lot smaller than I was accustomed to. Where had all his brash confidence gone?

"Not entirely," he admitted.

"This is hardly your first time."

"True," he agreed, "but before, it was always with people I knew. This is my first time in front of so many complete strangers."

"It's my first time, period," I pointed out. "Well, for being the center of attention at this sort of event. I've watched others who have been in the spotlight, but I haven't had to deal with it myself — not like you have. I'm relying on you to help keep me upright through all this."

"You're right, you're right," he said as he stood a bit straighter. "I won't let you down."

"Last but not least is our fourth champion," came McGonagall's voice from inside the Great Hall, "Miss Amy Potter, escorted by Mr. Richard Grayson."

The two of us strode into the blaze of camera flashes as we headed for the back of the room, where the champions' table had been set up. I hadn't wanted to participate since I didn't consider myself a champion, but McGonagall had insisted, so here I was. Since I didn't know anyone at Hogwarts well enough to go with them, I asked Dick, and he was eager to come. At least, he was at first — his initial enthusiasm shrank rather quickly when he found out more about it, but I stroked his ego by praising his dancing skills and soon got him in the mood once more.

The fake smile I'd plastered on for the cameras turned real when I saw that I'd be able to sit next to Hermione for the meal. Earlier, while waiting out in the Entrance Hall, I'd been struck speechless when I first saw her coming down the steps. I was certain that I'd never seen anyone that beautiful before, not even at all the high-society events I'd had to attend over the years, and it was a while before I could form coherent thoughts again.

I was more than a little surprised when I discovered that she was being escorted to the ball by Viktor Krum. That bothered me for some reason, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Eventually I concluded that perhaps I simply didn't think he was good enough for her — which he certainly wasn't, even if he **was** an international Quidditch star — though that didn't explain why my stomach kept doing flip-flops when I looked at her.

When I felt that now-familiar tingling sensation dance up and down my spine as I took my seat, I told myself that it was simply because I was nervous about having to dance in front of everyone at the opening of the ball. It certainly wasn't because I'd gotten an inadvertent eyeful of Hermione's surprisingly ample cleavage when I looked down at her. Nope, that wasn't it at all.

I'd been doing a lot of thinking over the past couple of weeks about the funny feelings I kept having around Hermione and had become just a little disturbed at what they might mean. When I made the connection to awfully similar feelings I had in relation to Catwoman, especially images of her in a skintight catsuit, standing over me while dragging her long nails down along my body... well, I completely freaked out and insisted to myself that there couldn't possibly be anything going on there.

Nope, nothing to see here, folks — just keep moving.

Switching back to my fake smile, I tried to purge my mind of images of Catwoman, her long nails, the way my nerves seemed to light on fire as she...

"What was that?" I asked Dick in a rush, my squeaky voice causing him to look at me strangely.

"I, uh, didn't say a thing," he responded slowly. "You alright?"

"Fine! Just fine! How's the weather?"

 _How's the weather?_ I resisted the urge to smack myself. Hard.

"I wouldn't know — I'm trying to figure out how to order."

"Oh, that's easy enough," Dumbledore interjected from across the table, looking at me a little curiously as well. "Once you've decided on what you want, just announce your selection to your plate and the food will appear."

"That's convenient," Dick said as he looked back to his menu. I picked up mine to see what was available. _Large, succulent chicken breast with a honey glaze? Seriously? Catfish... with a peach compote?! Oh, that's just...!_

"I'll, uh, have the veal," I said softly, trying not to shudder visibly.

"So, Mr. Grayson..."

"Dick."

"Excuse me?" the Headmaster asked.

"Dick. Call me Dick," my date answered amiably as he took a sip of his non-alcoholic cocktail. "'Mr. Grayson' just makes me feel old."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I suppose you've reached that age where you've stopped trying to grow up faster and are instead hoping to hold onto your youth. Anyway, I was curious about why you decided to escort Miss Potter to the ball, since I know you regard each other more as siblings than anything else."

It seemed to me that Hermione's attention shifted from whatever Viktor was nattering on about to focus on Dick.

"I'll admit that I thought long and hard about it," Dick explained as Dumbledore seemed to get something stuck in his throat. "After all, she's here to experience the magical world, not to keep falling back on the muggle world she's known all her life." I looked at him in surprise, not having realized that he'd taken anything like that into account. I certainly hadn't, and now I almost felt bad about having asked him. Maybe I should have tried harder to find a date from Hogwarts? Or maybe from one of the other two schools?

"But I promised once to always come for her when she needed me, even if it means being put on display like a piece of meat," Dick continued, "and there wasn't anyone here at Hogwarts that she felt comfortable asking."

Dumbledore was coughing harder at this point, but managed to nod in understanding.

"You are an experienced dancer, I 'ope?" Fleur asked while giving him what seemed to be a hungry look. I briefly wondered what her own date thought of that, but I soon realized that Roger Davies was just staring off into space, drooling into his soup.

"Dick actually has some great moves," I chimed in, then realized that it might have been the wrong thing to say. According to Bruce's research, veela became predatory when they encountered powerful males, especially those who had sufficient mental strength to resist their allure — and Dick was demonstrating that he wasn't affected by her at all. My own head got a bit fuzzy sometimes, but that was just because her accent was so annoying. Obviously.

While powerful males might enjoy what the veela had to offer, they apparently didn't always survive the experience. The texts weren't clear on why — whether it was due to something nefarious or simply a matter of them lacking the stamina to keep up with a veela over the long term.

Either way, I didn't want that happening to Dick, so I laid a hand possessively on his arm and smiled. "I have much less experience than he does, so I'm hoping he'll rub off on me and make me look good."

"Are you quite alright, Headmaster?" Bagman asked as Dumbledore had another coughing fit. The older wizard just waved the other man away.

"He seems rather short to be very good," Krum said under his breath, but I caught the comment easily. So did Fleur, if the nasty look she was giving him was any indication.

"Don't judge him by his size," I said rather pointedly. "Dick attracts the attention of all the girls at the society events back home — they all know how hard he is to beat when it comes to being a good partner."

"I never judge a man by 'is size," Fleur interjected. "It eez skill and experience zat matter ze most in a partner."

I looked back at her in surprise, pleased that she'd helped defend Dick but suspicious about her motivations. I knew that I'd have to keep a close eye on her.

"Please, excuse me for a few moments," the Headmaster said, coughing rather violently as he stumbled away from the table.

"Gee, I hope there's nothing wrong with the food," Dick said as he took a large bite of sausage.

* * *

Dumbledore eventually returned and insisted that he was alright, despite looking a bit flushed, and dinner proceeded without further incidents. After the meal came the opening dance, where the three champions and I were put in the spotlight. Somehow Dick managed to keep me from making a fool of myself, despite my inability to focus on what we were doing.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked. "You keep looking over at Hermione and Viktor."

"What?" I asked a bit too quickly.

"Yeah," he said with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be dancing with someone else?"

"Me? No!"

"I'm a little hurt, but I can understand. It makes a lot of sense, actually."

"It does?" I squeaked. What did he know? **How** could he know?

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "The attraction is obvious, and easy enough to understand."

"Obvious?" I wasn't being obvious, I was sure, especially since there was nothing to be obvious about in the first place. Nothing at all!

"He's a famous sports star, at least among magicals. Most of the girls here are looking at him as if they were starving and he were the only meal for miles around."

"V-Viktor? You think I'm attracted to Viktor?" I so wanted to collapse in relief at that moment.

"Of course — who else would I mean?" Dick asked.

"No one! But, uh, I'm not attracted to Viktor. Really."

"Well, then, why do you keep staring at those two?" Dick asked, genuinely confused.

If I didn't know better, I'd think I was jealous, but that couldn't possibly be it. Right? Right.

"Because, uh, well... I don't really like where he's got his hands," I finally answered. And it was true: every time I looked over there, I was pretty sure that the hand that was _supposed_ to be up on her waist was getting lower and lower — and I was getting pretty close to going over there and doing something about it.

And why did I keep looking at that part of her body every chance I got?

"Oh, so you're worried about her honor," Dick concluded, interrupting a train of thought I wasn't sure I wanted to pursue.

"Yes!" I replied enthusiastically. "That's it exactly."

Dick nodded. "That makes sense — I'm glad you're watching out for your friend. I'll help, and if it looks like there'll be trouble, we'll switch partners."

"Oh, good idea — that will let me get her away from him!" I said happily, smiling as I ran that scenario through my mind. Once I had her to myself I could—

"What?" he asked, now looking completely confused. "No. If we switch partners, that'll mean I'll be dancing with her and you'll be with Viktor."

"Oh," I said with a frown, not nearly as enthused about the plan as I had been.

Dick shook his head. "Amy, you need to concentrate. You're way too distracted to be able to do much if something happens tonight."

"Sorry, you're right," I responded, vowing to focus more on what was going on around me and less on Viktor's wandering hands, which looked like they were just starting to move south of her waist...

 **SLAP!**

Viktor Krum went reeling backwards with a red handprint on his face as Hermione shouted, "Keep your hands to yourself, you pervert!" With that, she stormed out of the Great Hall.

And I wasn't far behind, torn between happiness that she was finally away from that creep and anger over what she'd just experienced.

"Are you alright?" I asked when I caught up to her, noting that Dick had also followed but was keeping a respectful distance.

"Oh, I'm just so mad!" Hermione fumed. "He kept talking about me visiting him in Bulgaria this summer, even though we barely know each other so far, and his hands have been wandering ever since I joined him in the Entrance Hall earlier. It's ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous!" I agreed, wondering where exactly his hands had been and why that information seemed so important just then.

"You have no idea how lucky you are to have Dick," she said, seeing my date over my shoulder. "I'm sure you'll have a lot more fun at the ball with Dick in your arms than I will now that I'm alone."

"Um..." For some reason that sounded really wrong to me, but I couldn't quite figure out why.

Hermione went on morosely, "I'm starting to think that I'll never find a Dick of my own."

I blinked hard a couple of times before shaking my head and saying, "Look, Dick's a real stand-up guy, but I've never thought that I needed him in order to have a good time." Lowering my voice, I added, "Sometimes he actually gets in the way, or even falls asleep just when things start to get interesting."

"I... I just hate being alone all the time..."

"You don't need to be alone!" I said emphatically, putting an arm through hers and dragging her back to the Great Hall, grabbing Dick along the way. "You can spend the rest of the ball with us! Right, Dick?"

He must have seen the determined look on my face because he immediately agreed. "Absolutely! Any friend of Amy's is always welcome."

Viktor was sulking in a corner when we returned, and the band on stage wasn't playing waltzes anymore, so I convinced Hermione and Dick that we didn't need to be in pairs in order to dance. Unfortunately, the only dance that came to mind that would be good for the three of us was the Batusi. Dick stiffened in surprise as I taught it to Hermione and the two of us started dancing together, but eventually he relaxed and began moving with the beat.

I was soon having more fun than I'd managed to have at any party before... at least until we stopped to get drinks and Malfoy had to intrude.

"It's really disgusting, you know, bringing a muggle to Hogwarts as a date," he drawled while his two buddies, Crabbe and Goyle, laughed at his sides. If he had brought a date, she was nowhere to be seen. "It's bad enough that muggles have been allowed to enter the castle at all, but to permit one to escort a witch — however degenerate her blood has become — to a preeminent magical event? It's a disgrace!"

"You seem awfully obsessed with Dick," I noted. "Why do you care so much about who my date is?"

"What?" he exclaimed. "I'm not—"

"Of course you are," I interrupted. "You're the one who made a point of looking for me, leaving your date behind, and coming over here just to talk about Dick — not about me, the ball, the tournament, or anything else. Just Dick. And don't imagine that I haven't noticed how much time you've spent staring at him. Why are you and your two friends there so fascinated with Dick?"

"I'm flattered, really," Dick interjected, "but I have to wonder the same thing."

Malfoy just started sputtering in indignation, his face going crimson as all the blood seemed to rush to his head. Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle slowly edged away from him, apparently now recognizing how unhealthy their friend's obsession might be.

"Well, despite your strange fixation, I can assure you that you don't know Dick!" I continued, my voice rising enough to start attracting the attention of others. "Certainly not enough to act as though Dick is beneath you! Just the opposite is true, in fact — Dick is a better man than you'll ever be!"

"Maybe he already knows?" Hermione suggested. "I mean, maybe he knows how great Dick is and is jealous?"

"Is that it?" I asked the blonde wizard. "Are you suffering from Dick-envy?

"What? How dare...!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You need to learn that muggles are not inferior. If you only opened yourself to what the muggle world has to offer, you'd see it too. It might feel uncomfortable at first, but if you try it, you might find you enjoy it in the end."

"I'd be happy to help," Dick offered.

Hermione nodded in support, but when I looked back at Malfoy, he was now purple with rage. Muttering something about his father, he stomped off.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," I observed.

In the distance, I was sure I could hear Headmaster Dumbledore have another severe coughing fit, and I hoped that his health wasn't taking a sharp downturn.

* * *

The rest of the ball passed without further incident. Both Malfoy and Krum glared at us from across the hall, but they didn't try to start anything. Dumbledore also kept his distance and refused to look in our direction at all, probably out of a desire not to spread whatever illness he seemed to be coming down with.

When we weren't dancing, Dick spent a lot of time talking with Ron and Neville. I was sort of surprised the ginger Gryffindor had managed to find a date — it was so late when he finally got around to asking me, but of course I had to turn him down since I had asked Dick only a couple of days after the announcement. It was his bizarre way of inviting me that finally made me realize he had some sort of crush on me, and that that was why he kept blushing around me all the time. It was sweet, I suppose, but I really wasn't interested.

I also didn't care much about what the guys were spending so much time talking about, since it gave me more time with Hermione. I mean, it was my duty to console a friend whose own date had crashed and burned, right? At least, that's what I told myself.

I probably would have had an easier time believing it, too, if I could have kept my eyes from drifting down to her cleavage. It wasn't like I didn't already have my own which I'd seen lots of times, but for some reason I couldn't stop looking at hers.

"Di-did you ever finish that Charms essay?" Hermione asked. When I tore my gaze back up to her face, I noticed that her cheeks were slightly tinged with pink. For a moment I wondered what that was about, but then her question registered, and I rolled my eyes at yet another attempt to bring up schoolwork. That had to have been the fifth time she'd done it so far! I mean, I enjoyed having such a smart girl to discuss academic topics with, but didn't she have anything else to talk about?

"Yes, I finished it," I said. Judging by how uncomfortable she looked, my annoyance at the question must have gotten through to her. "Why did you end up coming to the ball with Krum, anyway?" I asked. I knew it was probably an uncomfortable subject, but I was really curious and desperately wanted to talk about something other than school. "I wouldn't have expected the two of you to hang out in the same social circles."

Hermione frowned at the reminder. "To be honest, I was more surprised than anyone that he asked me. I thought at the time it was because I wasn't a simpering Quidditch fangirl, or at least that was the impression he gave me. He'd been watching me in the library for a while and eventually asked me there."

"But you don't think that was his reason now?"

"I really don't know," she answered with a shrug. "I'm not sure that I can trust anything he said." She yawned then. "Boy, it must be late — we really should get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow."

"Huh? We do?"

"Oh, bugger!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes going wide and her hand snapping up to cover her mouth.

"Hermione, language!" Neville called teasingly as Dick shook his head.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The Headmaster has arranged for a surprise for you tomorrow," Hermione explained. "We weren't supposed to say anything, but I suppose that since you still don't know what it is, it will still be a surprise."

"You're all involved?" I asked, looking over at the guys.

"We know, but aren't involved," Ron said, pointing to himself and Neville.

"Dick and I will actually be with you, so we are involved," Hermione said, looking rather excited at whatever it was.

"OK, but this had better be good," I said dubiously. "I don't always react well to surprises."

"This is true," Dick said as he rubbed his jaw. "She slugged me at the last surprise birthday party we held for her."

"Well, it was your fault for jumping right out in front of me and yelling 'surprise!'" I said indignantly.

"I'm sure we won't have any issues like that," Hermione assured me. "You'll love it — just wait and see!"

* * *

When I tumbled through the floo, I wasn't surprised to see Hermione first since she had just gone through ahead of me. I also wasn't surprised to see Dick and Bruce, since I'd been told that they'd be here waiting for me — wherever here was.

The man on the other side of the room, though... his appearance **did** surprise me. A man with long black hair, a gaunt face, and arms outstretched as he came towards me.

"Everyone get down!" I shouted. "It's Sirius Black!"

I scarcely noticed the shocked expression on his face as I leapt at him.

 **OOF!** A punch to the gut had him doubled over, barely able to grunt in pain as the breath was knocked out if him. I took a nimble hop backwards, then aimed a high kick at about where his head would normally be.

 **POW!** My foot met his face halfway through the arc and hit him with enough force to flip him over completely. He lay facedown on the floor moaning as I twisted one arm behind his back. "Get some rope so we can tie him up!" I called out, but before anyone could help me I was grabbed from behind and pulled off the fugitive.

"Settle down there!" the tall man behind me tried to say, but I was having none of that.

 **CRUNCH!** My heel went down hard on the top of his foot. Normally this wouldn't do much, but it's why I wore high-heeled boots despite the balance issues they created. The tall stranger quickly let me go and started hopping up and down on one foot as he clutched at the injured one.

 **ZOWIE!** He was tall enough that my fist didn't connect with his face with quite as much force as I was capable of, but it was enough to put him down like a sack of potatoes.

"More rope — Black has an accomplice!" I called out, but when I looked over at everyone else, I just saw shocked and disbelieving expressions on their faces. Well, all but Bruce and Dick, who started slowly clapping at my performance.

"Very good!" Bruce said. "You had them both down in less than a minute. But still, you shouldn't have let the second one grab you at all. If you had been watching more closely, you could have taken him out before he ever touched you."

"True," I admitted. "I just wasn't expecting to encounter an internationally wanted terrorist today."

"Be ever vigilant!" Bruce said with a waggling finger, repeating a mantra he'd drilled into me from the first day.

"Now why does that sound familiar?" Dumbledore asked, having just stepped out of the floo himself. Then he noticed the two men lying on the floor and said, "I take it I missed something..."

"Did you know you were sending me to face a terrorist?" I demanded.

"No, no," Hermione said quickly as she stepped forward, finally galvanized into action. "He's innocent! He's your godfather, and he's innocent of all the accusations!"

"My... godfather?" I said slowly, looking down at the bedraggled man, who had managed to roll over. His nose was broken, he was missing several teeth, and there was blood all over his face, but somehow he still managed to look happy to see me.

* * *

After much explanation, I finally understood that Sirius Black wasn't an international terrorist and wasn't even technically a convicted criminal at all. Everyone had believed he was the one to betray my parents to Voldemort, so they simply chucked him into prison, not even bothering with a trial because Sirius had stupidly chosen to go after the real betrayer instead of taking and protecting me like he was supposed to.

Needless to say, I wasn't happy about any of that — not his imprisonment, and not his irresponsible decision.

The previous year he'd broken out of prison, mistakenly thinking that both I and the real betrayer, Peter Pettigrew, were in Hogwarts. He soon changed his plans when he learned that I had never shown up at Hogwarts at all and was presumed by some to be dead. As my sworn godfather, he somehow **knew** that I was still alive and finally made the right decision to put me above his desire to get revenge.

That made me feel a bit better about him.

He eventually managed to convince Dumbledore about his innocence before the Headmaster could turn him over to the DMLE, but Dumbledore was more skeptical about the claim that I was still alive. The plan to capture Pettigrew had unfortunately gone balls-up when the rat sniffed out the trap they had laid for him with the help of Hermione, Ron, and Neville. As a result, Sirius was now stuck hiding out in the house he'd been raised in and had grown to hate. His only regular company was Remus Lupin, the man who had grabbed me from behind before I knocked him out. He had been another close friend of my parents, my father in particular. As a werewolf he couldn't get regular work and so benefited from being able to live with Sirius.

In the end, I allowed myself to be wrapped in a tight hug by Sirius — the hug he had been trying to give me when I attacked him. "I... I don't know what to say," I managed to get out while muffled against his chest.

"You don't have to say anything at all," Sirius assured me. "I was hoping, though, that you'd be willing to spend some time here during your Christmas break so we could get to know each other. Well, again."

"Again?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "I knew you quite well when you were an infant, messing your nappies. I figured, though, that you'd probably changed a bit since then."

"Not as much as you might think," Dick opined, and I turned on him.

"Hey!" I complained. "And just how long have you two known about this, anyway?"

"Only a couple of weeks," Bruce answered. "We stumbled across some of the problems with Sirius' case when we were researching your situation here, and when I brought my concerns to Headmaster Dumbledore, he let me in on the full story. I insisted on meeting Sirius, of course, and once I did, I was satisfied that he was innocent. I had intended to tell you immediately, but he asked that we wait so he could surprise you for Christmas."

"Well, I **guess** I can forgive you," I drawled. "This time, at any rate."

Although I'd celebrated Christmas once already with other students at Hogwarts, today had been set aside for me to celebrate it with my adopted family, which had just grown by two. We exchanged gifts (though unfortunately I didn't have anything for Sirius and Remus since I'd only just met them, but they said not to worry about it), and surprisingly, even Professor Dumbledore gave me a present — something that had originally belonged to my father.

"It's beautiful," I said as I picked up the shimmering cloth.

"James' cloak!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'd wondered what happened to that."

"It sure does bring back memories," Remus added, and I gave them both a questioning look, wondering what was special about it.

"Go ahead, try it on," Sirius said with a knowing grin. So I did, and gasped along with almost everyone else when everything below my neck disappeared.

"Holy disappearing trick, Amy!"

"What is this?" I asked.

"It's your family's invisibility cloak," Sirius explained. "It's been passed down through your family over many, many generations. Your father and I used it to get into all sorts of trouble when we went to Hogwarts."

"As did James' father, Charlus," Dumbledore added with a twinkle in his eye. I suspected that there were probably a lot of interesting stories behind that twinkle and resolved to find time to ask the old wizard about them. I knew almost nothing about my birth family, but according to what little I'd been able to learn, the Potters were evidently an old, wealthy family that wasn't unlike the Wayne family in the muggle world.

But clearly there was more to them than just business and investments, so I really needed to take advantage of whatever sources of information I could.

"That cloak could prove incredibly useful. Or incredibly dangerous," Bruce observed.

"Very true, Mr. Wayne," Dumbledore said. "This is an unusually powerful invisibility cloak, far more powerful than any other such cloak I've ever seen, which is why I asked Amy's father for a chance to study it. In the wrong hands, it could be a terrible weapon. However, I feel that Amy is someone who can be trusted with it."

I looked at Bruce with pleading eyes, silently begging him not to object. Slowly, he nodded, earning him a massive hug from me.

* * *

It wasn't long after this that Alfred entered the sitting room to announce the start of dinner. We were all hungry and anxious to eat, though none of us were prepared for the meal to turn into a competition. Dobby still apparently thought that Alfred was unable to properly feed me, so he had taken it upon himself to follow me to Sirius' house and prepare his own meal.

Every time Alfred served something, Dobby would be right behind him with something else, trying to one-up the man. Alfred served a rich cheese soup, so Dobby served cheese and truffle soup with toasted garlic bread. Alfred served roasted goose, so Dobby served quail stuffed with foie gras and wild rice.

On and on it went, one delicious dish served after another, until we were all so stuffed that we weren't sure if we would ever manage to leave the table under our own power. Fortunately we were able to prevail upon both of them to stop with dessert (no one wanted to miss that, no matter how full we were getting), allowing us to relax and digest once we had all rolled ourselves back into the sitting room.

"Amy," Hermione started a bit hesitantly once the two of us were seated on the couch, "how did you get to be so good at fighting? I mean, I would never have expected a girl raised in a wealthy family to be able to take down two grown men so quickly and easily."

"Lots of physical defense classes," I said automatically, since this hadn't been the first time that Amy Potter had revealed unusual skills in fighting. Well, unusual for a fourteen-year-old girl. Usually my excuses deflected people's curiosity fairly well, but I knew that I had to be careful here — Hermione was too intelligent and observant to be fooled easily. "From an early age I've known about the possibility of being kidnapped for ransom, so I wanted to be able to defend myself."

"I wish I could do that," Hermione said softly.

I remembered her story about being trapped by the troll and feeling helpless. "Maybe I can show you a few things," I offered. "You wouldn't become an expert or anything, but I can help you learn some basics."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her eyes lighting up in a way I'd learned was usually reserved for old books.

"Sure," I answered. "It's not a big deal. You're helping me learn magic, so helping you with something I know well seems like the least I can do. Maybe we can start after the second task, though? Until then I'll be pretty busy."

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione said, pulling me into a sideways hug that I probably would have enjoyed more if I hadn't still felt so stuffed.

* * *

I decided to stay with Sirius and Remus for the rest of the break, eager to get to know them and learn more about my parents; so once they were able to move easily again, the Headmaster escorted Hermione back to Hogwarts while Bruce, Dick, and Alfred used the floo to return to Hogsmeade. I wasn't sure, but I got the feeling that Hermione was a little sad to be returning without me.

It was probably just my imagination, though.

Dobby proved just how useful he was by fetching my belongings from Hogwarts, including the Golden Egg that I had yet to solve. Not even the Bat Computer had been able to decipher the horrible screeching that came from the egg every time it was opened. That's when it occurred to me that perhaps Sirius or Remus could help — and it wouldn't even really be cheating, if their help was to provide knowledge of the magical world which I lacked due to not having grown up in it.

It was almost a week before I actually asked, though, because I really wanted to be able to solve it on my own. After all the training that I'd gone through to figure out the Riddler's riddles, I was sure that the egg would be a piece of cake. In the end, however, I finally had to admit that I simply didn't know enough. The fact that neither of them instantly had any answers made me feel a little bit better, and the discussion they held as they tossed ideas back and forth was a small education in itself.

"I think the screeching is what we need to focus on," Remus said at one point, having just shot down an elaborate theory of Sirius' that the egg represented an enormous golden snitch and that I'd spend the second task playing Quidditch with giants who used boulders for bludgers. Only too happy to give **that** one a miss, I stood up and started pacing — I always thought better that way.

"Screeching... screeching... What else screeches?" I asked, and when no one answered, I said, "Owls!"

"Okay..." Sirius said slowly, trading a puzzled look with Remus.

"And what's an owl's favorite food? A mouse!" I was on a roll now. Normally I was able to bounce ideas off of Bruce or Dick, so I was disappointed that Sirius and Remus weren't helping, but at the moment it didn't seem to matter. "And at one time, 'flittermouse' was another word for a bat!"

"So?" Remus asked.

"Well, what else begins with B?" Suddenly it all fell into place. "Black Lake!" I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. "Obviously the second task will be held in the Black Lake, so I'll need to submerge this egg in some water to get the clue!" I rushed over and hugged an oddly baffled Remus before grabbing the egg from him. "Thanks, Remus, you're a genius!"

* * *

I sat at a table in the Gryffindor common room, an incomplete essay sitting in front of me. I'd been there for an hour already, and all I'd managed to write was my name.

After finally hearing the egg's message properly, I had spent the intervening weeks preparing for an underwater mission. They were going to take something important from me and hold it hostage — hardly an unfamiliar scenario. Usually I was the one taken instead of the one doing the looking, but hey, it was something I could work with.

Still, once my plans solidified and I had the details nailed down, I began to wonder... what was it that I would "sorely miss"? And would it really be lost forever if I failed to retrieve it in the hour allowed?

I was worried, there was no denying it; but what was worse was the fact that every time I looked at Hermione sitting across the table from me — and that was quite often, truth be told — I got a sinking feeling in my stomach that I just couldn't fight.

What if they took a **person** instead of a thing? And what if they took... a particular person?

I barely excused myself in time to get to the girls' bathroom, where I threw up most of what I'd eaten that day. While I got cleaned up, I tried to figure out what was going on with me. I'd helped rescue Batman and/or Robin several times now, and I had never felt like this, no matter who had captured them. Why would the mere prospect of... someone else being held hostage affect me so strongly?

Unless... but it couldn't be... I mean, **I** couldn't be... could I? Me?

And why Hermione, of all people? A girl who nags me at least as much as she smiles at me?

I went to bed early and skipped my nightly patrol entirely. I decided to try imagining buff, handsome guys to see what kind of reaction they provoked, and quickly realized that I couldn't think of any. Well, except for Bruce and Dick, but... eww.

I was sure I'd seen some others — others not related to me in any way — but apparently they hadn't made much of an impression on me.

Rather telling bit of evidence, that.

And as I drifted off to sleep, my thoughts turned involuntarily to Hermione: Hermione in her ball gown... Hermione in a skintight catsuit... Hermione leaning over me while I was tied up... Hermione tied up, helpless and in danger...

Needless to say, my dreams that night were as confused and unsettled as I was.

* * *

What will Amy miss the most? Will she be able to retrieve it in time? And who will interfere, making the task even more dangerous? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!


	6. Soggy Dick Has a Close Call

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, I'm always glad to see readers' thoughts and opinions. As always, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Dark Witch of the Sith" by Nemesis13. HP/SW crossover. Lillith Potter is transported to a galaxy far, far away, where she finds herself taken under the wing of Darth Vader to be taught the ways of the Sith. He has absolutely no idea what sorts of headaches she's about to create for him — nor how much better the galaxy will become as a result.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 06 - Soggy Dick Has a Close Call**

 **Late February, 1995.**

"Champions, line up!"

I stood on the docks, looking out over the half-frozen Black Lake, and shivered involuntarily — not from the cold, though, since my newly-learned warming charm was keeping the frigid temperatures at bay. No, it was from fear. Hermione's bed hadn't been slept in last night, she hadn't been at breakfast, and no one had seen her since dinner the previous evening. Once I'd arrived at the docks for the second task with the three champions, we were informed by Ludo Bagman that at the bottom of the lake there was a hostage waiting for each of us.

It had been the confirmation of my worst fears. Hermione had been taken, was even now alone and helpless at the bottom of an ice-cold lake, and according to the clue in the egg she'd be lost forever if I failed to retrieve her within the one-hour time limit.

It was a dastardly plot worthy of the Joker, and I even found myself imagining Bagman in clown makeup, wondering if he was perhaps secretly one of the Joker's many minions. I shook my head to clear it of such thoughts. It ultimately didn't matter if the Joker was behind this or not, because either way Hermione was in trouble, and I was the only one who could rescue her.

It was kind of like old times, really. So why was I so much more scared right now when it was Hermione than I ever had been when it was Bruce or Dick?

I sighed in exasperation at myself, annoyed that even now I seemed to automatically go into denial as soon as thoughts of her came up. I couldn't afford to do that now because of how quickly self-deception tended to cloud one's judgment.

"When you hear the cannon, you may begin the task!"

Bruce taught me that the more certain my knowledge of both myself and my opponents was, the smoother my path to victory would be. This meant that I had to be ready to face the truth about myself, no matter how uncomfortable.

And the truth was that I was developing very strong... feelings for that annoying, bossy witch. I didn't entirely understand them, but they were feelings that I'd never experienced before with anyone, and certainly never would have expected to be feeling for another girl.

The truth was also that anyone or anything that threatened that witch would be in for a world of hurt. She may have been annoying and bossy, but I felt very protective of her. I doubted that she'd ever return my feelings, whatever they really were, but that didn't matter.

Saving her was what mattered. Seeing her back here, whole and healthy, was what mattered. Whatever came after, I'd deal with it then.

 **BOOM!**

I quickly pulled my wand and cast a summoning charm, concentrating hard while the three champions all dove into the lake. I paid no attention to the murmurings from the crowd or nearby judges, I just poured all my focus and will into the spell — I'd been practicing it daily for nearly two months and knew that given what was coming, the slightest loss of concentration could have proven disastrous.

A whistling sound was the first indication that my charm was working, and I was dimly aware that everyone was looking around, wondering where the noise was coming from. Then a familiar shape shot through the air from over and behind the stands, coming from the direction of Hogsmeade. A few seconds later, the nearly 1000 lb. Bat Jet Ski (stripped of all identifying markings, of course, except the Wayne Watercraft logo) hit the water hard, sending up a wave that soaked the judges.

It was an accident. Really.

I pulled off my robes, revealing my Bat Wetsuit (also stripped of identifying markings), then jumped on, fired up the 400hp engine, and rocketed away, sending up a spray of water that soaked the judges once more.

That was also totally an accident. It's not like I was feeling vindictive against the adults who'd put Hermione at the bottom of the lake or anything.

I didn't worry about damage as I bounced over chunks of ice — the reinforced hull was rated to withstand the impact of RPGs, after all — but I was worried that all the ice would interfere with the search radar. Out in the middle of the lake, which was where I suspected the merpeople's village to be, I would be far enough away from the largest sources of magic for the hardened computer systems to work; but solid objects like ice could still prove to be a problem.

I spent about ten minutes running a standard search pattern before I felt that I had enough data to be confident of what was at the bottom of the lake. Stopping at a point above what seemed like it could be the center of a village, I set the jet ski's system to standby mode before putting on my rebreather and diving down into the inky blackness.

* * *

 _Now what the hell do I do?_ I wondered. I knew that things had been going too well. The search for the village hadn't taken very long, especially considering the weather conditions. The dive down into the village had gone smoothly — I'd even found the hostages pretty quickly. All told, I was less than half an hour into the task, so I was making good time.

The problem, of course, was the identity of the hostages. Hermione was here, exactly as I'd feared, floating in an enchanted sleep.

But so was Dick.

I had been completely certain that Hermione would be my hostage, but now I realized that I was the only one who knew about my burgeoning feelings — and I had barely even admitted them to myself. Everyone else who observed us might think us friends, but they also probably wouldn't miss how often she annoyed me — the Headmaster himself knew that I struggled sometimes to be patient with her. So why would she have been picked for me? And Dick certainly couldn't have been anyone else's hostage.

So who was Hermione down here for?

The Asian girl was Cedric's girlfriend, which made her his hostage. I didn't recognize the cute little blonde girl, but she looked an awful lot like Fleur, so I guessed those two went together. And if Hermione wasn't my hostage, that only left….

Krum.

Oh, **hell** no!

That was when a shadow passed over me. I looked up and was surprised to see a shark — or more accurately, half of a shark. The front and pointy half. The back half was human and wearing a pair of swimming trunks that looked suspiciously like what I vaguely remembered Krum wearing back on the docks.

 _Funny — I'd have thought an octopus would be more appropriate…._

The shark darted down and seemed to want to use his teeth to cut through the ropes holding the hostages to the lakebed, but in the process he nearly bit through Hermione instead. Even if he hadn't been getting all handsy with Hermione back at the ball, there was no way I'd have let him anywhere near her now.

Except as a pair of shoes, perhaps.

I reached into my utility belt, pulled out my can of Shark Repellent Bat Spray, and blasted him full in the face. The horrified expression this produced absolutely made my day, and once he was gone, I started sawing through the rope holding Dick down. It was harder than I'd expected and took me a bit — by the time I'd finished, Cedric had arrived and was trying to cut his girlfriend's rope. With a rock. Feeling sorry for him, I sighed and handed him my knife, getting a smile and nod of thanks in return.

Once he finished freeing his girlfriend and started back towards the docks, I dealt with Hermione, working all the harder because the merpeople were starting to look unhappy. I'd have explained what I was doing and why if I could have, but I couldn't produce their language and didn't have time to play charades. Once I was done, I prepared to drag them both to the surface, but then I looked back at the little girl who was still floating there, unconscious and helpless.

She was absolutely adorable, and my heart broke at the thought of leaving her behind. Knowing how disappointed both Bruce and Dick would be if I simply left, I changed my plans yet again. Reaching into my utility belt, I grabbed another rebreather and shoved it into Dick's mouth before hitting him with a blast of Bat Wakeup Spray. His eyes snapped open and he started looking around, wondering what was happening.

I pointed to the little girl still tied up, and that was all that was necessary. Dick was a good soldier and knew the drill.

I held on to Hermione and watched his back while he cut the girl free. It didn't take long for the merpeople to get tired of us not following whatever script the tournament officials must have told them to expect, but a handful of thermite mini-grenades tossed at the lakebed between them and us discouraged them pretty fast.

Once the girl was free, Dick held her tight while I held on to Hermione, and we both ascended as quickly as possible. Time was running short.

* * *

"Where are we?" Hermione demanded between wet coughs.

"Middle of the Black Lake. In the middle of freakin' February, no less," I answered as I cast a quick warming charm on her. It probably wouldn't last long, not with her soaking wet, but every little bit helped.

"What? Why?"

"You were being held hostage at the bottom by merpeople for the second task, and I just rescued you. You're welcome, by the way." I grabbed ahold of her and dragged her the few yards that separated us from the Bat Jet Ski. A high-pitched shriek off to the right drew my attention, and about thirty yards away I could see Dick with the little girl. We'd gotten separated when we passed through the kelp, and now it appeared that the girl was panicking.

I tried to think if there was anything magical that would help in this situation — wasn't there some sort of cheering charm or something? That would almost certainly help settle her down. Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to teach it to me yet. _Probably because they didn't think I'd have to calm innocent civilians as part of the second task_ , I thought sourly. Well, nothing for it but to try to find a non-magical solution.

"Quick, get on," I told Hermione. "We need to get over to Dick and help him with the little veela."

"Dick?" she asked as I helped push her up onto the rear seat. "What's he doing here?'

"He was my hostage," I said as I mounted the jet ski in front of her. "The one the tournament organizers thought I would miss most."

"You mean, I wasn't?" she asked, sounding disappointed, which made me feel a little better. Then she wrapped her arms around me, making me feel a whole **lot** better. "Then why was I down there?" she whispered, her breath warm and arousing against my neck.

"You were Krum's hostage. The one **he** would miss most."

"Krum?!" she practically screeched into my ear, completely ruining the tender moment. "Whose idiotic decision was that?"

I had no answer and was too preoccupied with carefully maneuvering the jet ski over to Dick to worry about it. I dared not go too fast, or I'd make things even harder on them, but I could hear the girl's panicked babbling in French and knew that I needed to hurry.

Suddenly, a shark fin popped up out of the water between us and started circling towards the people in the water.

"Shark!" I called out, and immediately slowed down to a near stop so I could pull the high-tension cable out of one of the storage compartments. I noticed that the little veela started crying even as Dick tried to pull her closer to him.

"There are no sharks in the Black Lake," Hermione protested. "It says quite clearly in _Hogwarts: A History_ , that the only creatures..."

"It's actually Krum, half-transfigured as a shark," I interrupted, attaching the cable to a ring behind her seat.

"If it's Krum, why are you worried?" she asked. "He might be a pervert, but I can't imagine that either Dick or that little girl need to fear for their virtues right now."

"He, uh, might be a little mad at me," I answered as I started us moving again. "Mad enough to take it out on them."

"Oh?" she asked, sounding curious.

"I hit him with a chemical spray when he nearly bit you in half in his attempt to 'rescue' you," I explained, ignoring the indignant squawk of outrage that followed. Focusing on Dick, I accelerated while swinging the handle at the end of the cable in a circle above my head. Dick saw it and quickly caught on to my plan, nodding in agreement as he whispered something into the little girl's ear.

He wouldn't be able to grab the handle with his hands — not if he was going to keep control of the panicked veela, too. Fortunately his hands weren't his only option.

The shark fin was still circling when I got to ten yards, and that's when I threw the handle. Just as I knew he would, Dick caught it in his teeth, and I shoved the throttle forward, pushing the jet ski to full power as I rocketed away. I had been traveling away from the docks in order to reach Dick, and then I had to make a wide turn while Dick struggled to get upright while keeping ahold of the girl.

Finally, the four of us were headed back to the docks — me piloting, Hermione's wet body crushed up against mine (causing curious stirrings in my utility belt), and Dick waterskiing in the back, a frightened little veela in his arms and the handle clenched in his teeth. During that time, though, Krum had managed to get himself into a position where he could start harassing us.

First he kept ramming the side of the jet ski. A civilian model might have toppled from the force of the impacts, but the modified version Bruce had created probably only gave Krum a headache. It was when he moved in between us and Dick that I got worried — Hermione and I had some protection, but Dick and the veela were completely exposed.

I looked back and watched the fin turn, preparing to attack the new targets, but almost immediately Dick crouched in preparation. Just as the shark began to surface, Dick surged up from his crouch with all his strength, and suddenly he was soaring over the half-Krum, half-shark, leaving him spluttering in rage in our wake.

* * *

"Holy molars!" Dick exclaimed as Bruce helped him up onto the dock. "Am I ever glad I take good care of my teeth!"

"Very true," Bruce agreed. "You and this young lady clearly owe your lives to good dental hygiene."

"I'll never complain about having to brush and floss again," Dick said.

"Ooh, I like them," Hermione said softly as I helped her up, making me wonder what I was missing until I remembered that her parents were dentists. I just rolled my eyes at all three of them.

Madam Pomfrey handed out warm towels to everyone as she herded us to the medical tent. For some reason Hermione and I had to share one, but neither of us objected. Madame Maxime tried taking charge of the little veela but wasn't having a lot of luck because she'd latched onto Dick and seemed determined not to let go. Since his French was only mediocre and never included conversational practice with chattering, excitable little girls, he was clearly out of his depth, much to Bruce's amusement.

Dick soldiered on, though, not complaining as she held him tight and smiling every so often whenever she looked at him questioningly. He'd always been good with little kids — I knew that from experience.

"Thank you, by the way," Hermione said as she leaned over and whispered into my ear.

"Oh, sure," I said, feeling myself blush slightly. "It was, uh, nothing."

"It wasn't 'nothing,'" Hermione insisted. "You could have taken Dick and then left. He was your hostage and the only one you were obligated to save. But you chose to save me, too. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Right?"

"Uh... yeah," I answered, feeling myself blush even more.

"Then thank you…." I thought Hermione was about to say something else, but Madam Pomfrey arrived to check us over.

While we were being examined, Fleur came out of the lake — and with quite a few injuries, too. I later learned that she'd been swarmed by grindylows and never even reached the merpeople's village.

"Gabrielle!" she cried out as soon as she saw the tiny blonde who was attached to Dick's side. Fleur rushed over and pulled the other veela into a tight hug while the little one let loose with a torrent of rapid-fire French. My own French was worse than Dick's, but I suspected that Gabrielle was explaining to Fleur what had happened. After a minute or so, Fleur stood up and grabbed Dick, saying, "You saved my sister! Zank you, Deek! Zank you!" She must have given him a half dozen kisses on each cheek before she was done, causing little Gabrielle to start giggling.

"Uh, thanks, but Amy helped," Dick said, pointing over towards me.

When Fleur approached us, I couldn't help but notice that her swimsuit left very little to the imagination, even though it was a one-piece. She was an undeniably gorgeous young woman... yet I realized that I felt no particular attraction to her, not even when she hugged me, pushing her breasts up against me as she kissed me on each cheek.

That was sort of surprising as it seemed to go against some of the conclusions I'd recently started reaching about myself. Perhaps I had been wrong?

I looked at Hermione, who was still sharing a blanket with me, and I caught what looked like might have been jealousy flash across her face before her expression turned blank. I blinked a couple of times and looked at her — really looked at her. I saw how her wet hair was matted against her head. I looked deeply into her brown eyes. I focused on how her wet body was pressed up against mine.

Yep — **definitely** affected, and those stirrings in my utility belt came on stronger than before. I surreptitiously patted my belt, just to make sure that it wasn't the new fish struggling to get out and back to the lake, but that pocket was still secure.

Then Hermione licked her lips, growing nervous at my staring, and I suddenly felt a wave of heat wash over me.

"Is it, uh, hot in here, or is it just me?" I asked, forgetting the fact that we were still soaked in ice-cold water.

"Uh, yeah," Hermione said softly. "It is kind of warm, now that you mention it."

We continued to stare into each other's eyes for several long moments. I'll never know if something might have happened then because Igor Karkaroff stormed in, ranting and raving about me cheating, demanding that I be disqualified. Krum was right behind him, his face red from the chemical spray and looking very pissed off.

It took a lot of arguing back and forth before I could even get my side of the story told, and it was only after my story had been confirmed through Dumbledore by a representative of the merpeople that Krum stopped denying that he'd nearly bitten Hermione in half.

I thought it interesting that Karkaroff kept looking away and refusing to answer Hermione when she demanded to know who thought it was a good idea to make her a hostage for a person she'd publicly slapped and called a pervert. I was ready to step in and take action myself, but Dumbledore apologized for the misunderstanding, saying that he'd been misinformed about the true nature of her relationship with the Durmstrang champion. He looked pointedly at Karkaroff when he said this, and the expression on his face suggested that the two of them would have words later.

In the end, Cedric received the most points because he got back first, and I only got a slightly better total score than I had in the first task. Both Dumbledore and Percy Weasley, the new Ministry representative, gave me a 9. Madame Maxime gave me a 10 this time and seemed very happy that I'd saved Gabrielle as well. Karkaroff, though, gave me a 0 and continued to insist that I should be disqualified for having interfered with Krum, who got a worse overall score than I did because of his actions. Even Fleur got a better score than he did.

After giving the defiant Durmstrang headmaster a long, hard look, Dumbledore raised his hands to silence all the catcalls. "Another task gone, but before we head back to the castle for a warm meal, we should congratulate Cedric Diggory on having done so well." Everyone applauded, though they looked a bit confused as well.

"Yes, well done, Mr. Diggory, well done indeed," Dumbledore continued, a very slight, sly smile starting to creep across his face. I doubt most people noticed it, but I did because I suspected he was up to something. In fact, I was starting to suspect that he was _always_ up to something. "However, certain actions must be taken into account. I have a few last-minute point additions to award." Karkaroff looked like he wanted to stand and object, but Madame Maxime appeared to be restraining him with a very large hand on his shoulder.

"First, to Mr. Dick Grayson, for the best water skiing performance that Hogwarts has seen in many a year, I award Miss Potter five points." Cheers erupted through the crowd, and I saw more than a few half-bloods and muggleborn explaining to purebloods what "water skiing" was. "Second, to Miss Gabrielle Delacour, for staying cool and calm despite being in great danger, I award her sister Fleur five points." Even more cheers rose from the crowd, and Gabrielle shyly buried her head into Dick's side.

"And finally, to Miss Amy Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award another five points." Again, everyone cheered, and the extra ten points I'd just received had me tied with Cedric for first place for the second task!

* * *

Once more Gryffindor held a party instead of going to the Great Hall for dinner, and once more I went along with it. I felt that I had even less choice than I'd had after the first task because everyone wanted me to keep retelling what had happened. During the first task, everyone could see everything, even if they hadn't entirely understood how I had foiled the dragon. In the second task, though, very little could actually be seen — and even most of the events that happened on the surface were too far away.

It was late by the time I'd finished my last retelling of events, and I sat heavily on the sofa next to Hermione. For a while she'd been looking like she wanted to talk to me, but I kept waffling between wanting to hear what she had to say and being afraid of what it might be, which was why I'd allowed myself to keep getting roped into discussions about events under the lake.

"So, got a minute?" she asked.

"For you, always," I said, then quickly flushed when I realized just how forward that answer must have sounded.

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened at the lake today," she said, and I nodded, since I'd been thinking about it a lot as well. "I've been thinking... and I'm not at all happy. I'm quite upset, in fact."

My breath hitched, and I was sure that my heart stopped briefly. I may not have been sure about what I felt or what I wanted to do about it, but this was not what I wanted to hear.

"I don't think I've felt that helpless since my encounter with the troll," she continued. "I really need to prioritize self-defense lessons, even though I'll admit that they wouldn't have done any good today. I just... I need something to boost my self-confidence."

"Huh?" I asked, confused about what she'd just said.

"Aren't you listening to me?" Hermione huffed. "I'm talking about those self-defense lessons you said you give me. You remember them, don't you? Since the second task is done now, I'd like to get started sooner rather than later, if you don't mind."

"Oh, that's what you meant?" I responded, letting out a breath of relief.

"Of course," Hermione said. "What did you think I wanted to talk about?"

"Um, nothing, never mind," I answered quickly. "Let me look at my schedule tomorrow, but I'm sure we can start actual lessons some time this week. Uh... I really need to go to bed. I'm exhausted. Um, goodnight."

"But you still have homework!" she protested.

I ignored her as I rushed up to our dorm and got ready for bed as fast as possible. I didn't even bother with doing my patrol that night — I was too tired and too confused.

* * *

It wasn't a surprise when Alfred showed up at dinner the following evening. Instead of serving dragon steak, though, he served me a large, succulent shark steak. I'll admit, I took a quick look over at the Slytherin table just to make sure that Krum was still there. Alfred was very protective of those he cared about, and I wouldn't have put it past him to do something to the arrogant wizard; but Krum was still with the Slytherins, scowling as always.

By this point, I wasn't sure if his face was even capable of any other expression.

Fleur, curiously enough, wasn't around. I hoped that she wasn't out looking for Dick — if she was, she'd probably have a lot of competition from her little sister.

"Thanks, Alfred," I said as I took my first bite. I'd never had shark steak before, so while it wasn't magical like dragon steak, it was still a new experience. "Mmmm... I'm definitely going to have to have this again!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Parvati and Lavender whispering to each other, and knew for a certainty that their gossiping would ensure that Krum would learn of this sooner rather than later.

My smile widened at the thought.

It wasn't a surprise when I heard Dobby pop in behind me — and this time he was already prepared.

"Dobby be making shark fin soup for Missy Amyrilly Potter, Ma'am," the little house elf said as he set a large bowl next to me. This was something else I'd never tried before and immediately took of bite of that as well, carefully avoiding the miniature shark fin that was circling in it. It was just a magical animation like the dragon-shaped treacle tart, right? Right?

"Wow, this is really good, Dobby," I told him, watching him stand a bit straighter in pride. He then looked questioningly at Alfred, and they held each other's gazes for a long moment before inclining their heads gravely and departing.

"I think they decided that that one was a draw," Hermione said as she stole a bite of my steak.

"I think the twins are taking bets on who ultimately wins," Neville said as he stole a spoonful of soup from the other side.

"Watch it," I said, pulling my meal a bit closer to me. "You don't want me telling Dobby about you stealing my food, do you?"

"You wouldn't do that, Missy Amyrilly, would you?" Hermione asked, looking all sweet and innocent.

I gulped, having trouble focusing on whatever it was that I had been saying. "Uh... maybe? No?"

"Good," she responded with a smile, taking another bite of my steak. "Now, when did you want to get together to study Transfiguration? And what about those self-defense lessons?"

I just sighed, wondering how I'd gotten myself into this situation.

* * *

"You're sure you have the time for this?" Hermione asked me later that week when we got together for her first self-defense lesson. I didn't say anything because I was too distracted by the muggle workout clothing she was wearing. Extremely form-fitting muggle workout clothing.

 _Damn, but Hogwarts robes sure do hide a lot,_ I thought. _I'd probably put up less of a fuss over her nagging to study if she wore clothing like this — not that I could easily tell her that._ I swallowed thickly and licked my dry lips as I realized that I hadn't ever really seen her in anything remotely like this, not even in our shared dorm, probably because she tended to get up early and go to bed late while I did the opposite.

"Amy!" Hermione said sharply.

"Who? What?"

"You weren't paying attention again! I swear, you've been zoning out more and more. Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine," I insisted. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you're sure you have time for this," she repeated.

"Oh, yeah, sure," I responded. I hadn't had time to start training her before the second task, but the third task was far enough away that I was able to make some room in my schedule. I needed to work out and practice anyway, so I thought this might end up helping me as well.

The prospect of having lots of opportunities to grapple with her at close range, roll around on the floor with her, and just generally get hot and sweaty together played absolutely no role in my decision whatsoever. That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

After some long, lingering stretches where I stressed the importance of being limber, I started her with some basic choke and stress holds. They gave her the option of subduing, incapacitating, or even seriously injuring an opponent if she got into the right position with the right leverage — something that was far more likely to be successful with witches and wizards, most of whom would never lower themselves to hand-to-hand fighting.

It also put our bodies tight up against each other in a variety of interesting positions, which didn't distract me at all and certainly wasn't the cause of what happened next.

Apparently Hermione wasn't entirely satisfied with simply being able to subdue an attacker and instead wanted to be able to throw them, much like she'd seen in the movies. Basic shoulder throws were simple enough, so I agreed to show her. For some reason, though, she was able to surprise me and throw me when I wasn't expecting it, a move she followed up on by jumping on me, straddling my abdomen, and holding down my arms.

"Gotcha!" she cried, clearly proud of herself for having gotten the drop on someone she knew to be very skilled.

As for myself, I felt my entire body heat up, my heart started thundering in my chest, and I couldn't draw a breath to save my life. All I could do was stare up into her eyes, feeling myself getting lost in them as she stared back.

I don't know how long we lay there like that, but at some point she shifted her hips, sending unfamiliar but incredibly pleasurable shocks through my abdomen, which caused me to suck in my breath. That's when Hermione seemed to realize just where she was and what she was doing, because she jumped off me like she'd been scalded.

"I'm sorry... I mean, uh, thanks. No, uh, yeah…. Thanks! For the lesson, I mean!" she babbled. "We should do this again some time. I mean, uh, we should set a schedule, or something. Yeah. Boy, I'm knackered. I'll, uh, go to bed now. Bye!"

She was out of the room like a shot, but I hadn't moved a muscle the entire time. I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling — and wishing more than anything that I could have those sensations back again.

"I am so screwed," I whispered into the empty room.

* * *

What will happen between Amy and Hermione now? Will Hermione be able to learn enough to defend herself, or will Amy get too distracted to teach? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!


	7. A Jealous Friend

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing — I love seeing readers' thoughts and opinions. As always, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping to make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Harmony Potter: Starfleet Raised" by Skipsophrenic. HP/Star Trek crossover. Q may be arrogant and conceited, but even he can't stand to see a child abused. So when he comes across Harmony Potter being abused by the Dursleys, he has to step in, and since he can't exactly take care of her, who does he turn to? Captain Janeway, naturally. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 07 - A Jealous Friend**

 **Late May, 1995.**

"So, are we still on for tonight?" I asked, trying hard to sound casual. It had been three months since I'd started teaching Hermione self-defense, and while I hadn't provided lessons as consistently as I would have liked, I did try to do them at least once a week.

"I suppose," Hermione said, not a little coldly. She'd been acting this way more and more. I wasn't sure when exactly it had started, since I was often lucky if I saw her at one or two meals a day and maybe in the common room at night, but I was definitely sure that it was getting worse.

And I had no idea what was causing it.

"Well, uh, good, because I wanted to show you..."

"I need to get to class," Hermione suddenly said, standing up and grabbing her bookbag. "You'd better hurry, too, or you'll be late for your muggle tutoring." With that, she spun on her heel and walked out of the Great Hall without saying goodbye. I looked at my watch and verified that there was still plenty of time for both of us to get where we needed to go.

"That was rather abrupt," I muttered.

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "She was just fine last night — I wonder what's got her so upset."

"Probably dropped from being three weeks ahead in her work to just two," Ron said a bit unkindly. I would have scowled at him and objected, but I was too preoccupied with the fact that Neville thought her mood had been fine recently. I remembered her being quite bitchy last night, not "just fine."

Which meant that the problem definitely had to do with me.

I despaired at ever understanding her.

Hermione came to the lesson that night — I was actually worried that she might skip it, given how bad her mood around me had been — but she was all business. She didn't make any small talk and didn't respond to any personal topics I brought up. She simply came, practiced what I showed her, and left.

* * *

"Hey, is that Fleur I see outside?" I asked excitedly, causing Dick to jump out of his seat in a panic. I couldn't help but laugh, managing to ignore Bruce's look of disapproval in the process. Originally I'd intended to protect Dick from the predatory veela, but after seeing how cute Gabrielle's reaction to him was, and especially when I realized that Dick wasn't as averse to Fleur's attentions as he pretended, I decided to simply have fun instead.

If it had looked like anything was going to come of it, though, I knew I'd have to give Fleur a very stern talking-to and tell her that if anything happened to Dick, she'd have me to answer to.

"You're supposed to be paying attention to what Dick is teaching you, not teasing him," Bruce chided.

"I know, I know. But he makes it too easy sometimes." I turned back to Dick. "So I take it that it's not all wine and roses with your two French girlfriends?"

He shook his head. "They're not my girlfriends, and it's been really, really hard."

"Too much for you, then?"

"One would be too much!" he exclaimed. "But the youngest is just clingy due to an extreme case of hero worship."

"Not that you're any stranger to that," I pointed out. "But what's the oldest like? She's pretty hot."

"If anything, Fleur is worse," Dick answered glumly. "She's certainly a lot worse than the most rabid fangirls back home. She simply refuses to take no for an answer and is always looking for ways to get me alone."

"As you get older," Bruce interjected, "you'll start to see how easy it is to become lured in by the female of the species."

" **Excuse** me?" I said pointedly, making Bruce shift uncomfortably in his seat before he returned to hiding behind the _Daily Prophet_. "Anyway, Dick, I'm surprised you're inclined to say no in the first place. French. Blonde. Powerful. Well educated. What's not to like?"

"You know what our research into veela turned up," he responded. If I hadn't been paying close attention, I might not have noticed that his tone of voice wasn't quite as certain as his words.

"I doubt they're **literally** man eaters," I said. "If the rumors about what happens to their men are true, I'm confident that you wouldn't be in too much danger, given how strong and skilled you are. And, really, what a way to go, huh?"

Dick blushed furiously and refused to answer, causing me to laugh again. I was right: he was a lot more interested than he wanted to admit to anyone, including himself. After a long pause, he finally said, "She **is** pretty..."

"I thought you might notice something like that," Bruce interjected once again, ignoring my glare. "That single statement indicates to me the first oncoming thrust of manhood, old chum."

This caused Dick to cough and blush while I snickered. "It's not funny!" he complained. "She may be pretty, but she's a little too aggressive for me. Even telling her that I'm a muggle didn't make any difference — she didn't care, for some reason."

"She probably sees in you a kindred spirit," I suggested.

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

"You do remember, don't you, that veela can transform into large birds?"

Dick went a bit bug-eyed at that reminder.

"That's right," Bruce said. "Now that you mention it, they also throw balls of fire from their hands, at least when they're angry. You might want to keep that in mind as you continue trying to push her away. Hell hath no fury like a veela scorned, old chum."

Once more I started cackling at his predicament — unexpectedly caught up with a woman he didn't understand, wasn't sure he even liked, and didn't know how to deal with.

Because, y'know, that didn't sound familiar at all...

* * *

"I can't believe you're not any farther ahead in your work than this!" Hermione scolded me. "You've got way too much to learn and far too little time to learn it in."

All my other student tutors shifted uncomfortably in their seats as I rolled my eyes at yet another diatribe from the increasingly bossy and annoying witch. She was always like this to one degree or another, and I thought that I had been able to accept that, but it was getting to be too much.

"I'm more than a week ahead in my schedule for studying magic," I pointed out.

"Yes, and the third task is already less than a month away!"

"Hermione," Neville said placatingly, "I think the professors set up this schedule so she'd be able to learn what she needs. So being even a little bit ahead is good."

"Right, and being farther ahead would be better," Hermione insisted. "There's no telling whether a particular spell will be the one that lets her win... or even just survive! With less than a month to go, this is no time to start slacking off!"

"I'm hardly slacking off!" I protested, starting to let my anger show. "I'm ahead of schedule in **all** my studies."

"If you have so much time to spend on the muggle subjects, then maybe you should direct some of it to things that are important," Hermione snapped as she shoved her books in her bag. "Assuming, of course, you ever decide on what's genuinely important!"

We all looked at each other in shock for a few moments after she walked out, unsure of what exactly had just happened.

"She always stresses out around exam time," Neville said weakly.

"She does," Susan agreed, "but this... this seems different."

"Have you been fighting with her about anything?" Daphne asked.

"No, not that I'm aware of."

"She only seems this way around you, come to think of it," Neville said.

Daphne nodded, "So it's your fault, then, which means you need to apologize."

"I haven't done anything!" I complained. "At least, not that I know of."

"Doesn't matter," Susan said, earning her a confused look from Neville. "Since it's your fault, you need to figure out what you did — without asking her, of course — and apologize profusely for it."

I gaped at her. She raised her hands as if to ward me off. "Hey, I didn't make up the rules — I'm just telling you what they are."

I groaned and let my head hit the table. What was it about girls that made their thinking so convoluted and crazy? Other girls, that is. **I** was normal. The rest of my gender? Completely mental.

* * *

When I got back to the common room that evening, Hermione was nowhere to be seen, so Neville and I sat down with Ron, who was playing chess against himself.

"Still no takers?" Neville asked.

"You should find the time to play against Dick," I said. "He's pretty good."

"But he wanted to play muggle chess," Ron whinged. "You actually have to move the pieces yourself! Where's the fun in that?"

Neville and I shared a look, rolling our eyes in unison.

"What happened with Hermione?" Ron asked after beating himself. "She looked furious when she came through here earlier."

"No idea," I said, shaking my head.

"I hope she's not overworking herself. Again."

"Seriously, is that even possible?" I asked sourly. "I mean, how could you tell?"

Now Ron and Neville shared a look, then Neville began to explain while Ron set up his chess pieces again. "Back in third year, she was taking all five electives. The problem was, some of the electives were held at the exact same time."

"So how'd she do it?"

"Professor McGonagall gave her a magical device called a time-turner. The Headmaster pulled some strings and got it from the Ministry. It lets you go back in time for up to a few hours."

"Wow, that could be handy!" I said, my mind racing with the possibilities.

"Yeah, but they're awfully dangerous," Neville said. "There are all sorts of rules you have to follow, like not letting yourself be seen by yourself, not trying to change events that you know happened, that sort of thing."

"None of that was Hermione's problem, though," Ron interjected.

"Right," Neville agreed. "Hermione was doing far too much work while getting far too little sleep. She became short-tempered, her grades started to slip, and she basically made life in Gryffindor Tower hell for everyone else."

Boy, that didn't sound like Hermione **at all**.

"Until McGonagall took it away from her," Ron added.

"How'd you two find out about it?" I asked.

"My brothers figured it out," Ron answered. "They refuse to tell me how, though."

"Well, I can easily imagine her overusing it and not getting enough sleep," I said. "I doubt she has another one, though, so that can't be why she's acting so strangely now."

* * *

I lay awake in bed for a long time that night, thinking about what Hermione had said. Despite how volatile her mood had been, she had raised an interesting question: what did I consider important? This was part of a larger question that had been hanging over my head since I'd arrived in Hogwarts and which I'd avoided thinking about: what was I going to do after this tournament and school year were over?

Contrary to what Hermione seemed to think, I was managing just fine juggling magical and non-magical subjects, but that was only because of my specialized schedule and the one-on-one teaching I was getting. It wouldn't continue past June. which meant I would soon have to make a choice: go back to fighting crime in Gotham City and continue with my regular education there while leaving the magical world behind? Or continue my schooling in magic at Hogwarts, giving up my mask and costume except for longer holidays when I could go home?

There were advantages and disadvantages to both. I liked learning magic. I wanted to learn more magic. However... I didn't want to leave home, nor did I want to give up on being Batgirl, not after I had worked so hard and long. Bruce and Dick were doing something important, and I felt good being part of that.

Another way of looking at it was: go back home with Bruce and Dick, or stay in Britain with Hermione?

That was a far more emotionally charged question, and one that I wanted to think about even less — especially with how Hermione had been acting lately. A couple of months ago, her presence might have made staying at Hogwarts even more enticing. Now, though... now her presence made it a bit less appealing, truth be told.

 _If only I had extra time... time enough to study..._

Time! That was it! I needed to talk to Dumbledore.

* * *

"Come in, come in," Dumbledore said as I entered his office. I'd been there regularly for my lessons with him, but I still found it fascinating. "Have a seat Miss Potter. Sherbet Lemon?"

"No, thank you, Headmaster. I appreciate you agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"Professor McGonagall indicated that you seemed to think the matter to be most urgent," he replied, gesturing to his deputy, who was sitting at the side of his desk.

"I think so," I said, trying to figure out how best to explain my dilemma. "My problem is that I don't know what I'm going to do once the tournament is over: stay and learn magic or go home, back to the life I was building for myself."

"Ah, I have been wondering when this would come up," Dumbledore said as he leaned forward and steepled his fingers over his desk. "But shouldn't you be discussing this with your guardians, Mr. Wayne and Mr. Pennyworth?"

"I will, yes, but I needed to check with you about a device that you may have access to," I said, getting curious expressions from both the adults. "The other night I learned about a magical device called a time-turner."

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore said, gazing down at his desk while McGonagall merely looked resigned. "I take it you've been talking to Miss Granger?"

"No," I said with a frown. "She hasn't mentioned it to me, but a couple of others in Gryffindor figured out that she was using one in third year and told me about it." For a moment I thought I saw a look of concern flash across his face, but it disappeared too quickly for me to be sure.

"If you heard her story, then you know how hazardous a time-turner can be — even if you follow all of the rules, you can still run into problems," McGonagall said.

"As Miss Granger herself discovered," Dumbledore added.

"I know all that," I said, "But I'm far more mature than she was at the time — more than most people my age, in fact."

Okay, so maybe that sounded a bit arrogant, but it was still the truth.

"Perhaps, but it's not enough to justify being given a device that can be so dangerous," McGonagall insisted. "Every muggleborn student who enters Hogwarts is faced with having to stop attending muggle classes. They've all made a choice that you are asking us to help you avoid."

"But most enter Hogwarts at a much earlier age, before they are well established in their muggle educations," I countered. "It's much harder for me to turn my back now on what I've been learning than it would have been at age eleven."

"You make a good point," Dumbledore said. "You are in an unusual situation. Perhaps even unique. I'm not saying no, but I'm not prepared to say yes, either. This will need to be carefully considered — and in consultation with your guardians, too."

"Are you certain, Headmaster?" McGonagall asked. "I'd hate to see another case like Miss Granger's..."

"I agree, Professor McGonagall, but we cannot hold back everyone else who comes through this school because of one student's mistakes. Hers is a cautionary tale, to be sure, but not one that should rule over all others."

"Thank you," I said, "I appreciate that you're willing to keep the option open."

"Since we're on the subject," Dumbledore said, "How are you getting on with Miss Granger lately? I seem to have heard stories about raised voices in the library the other day..."

I slumped in my seat a little at that memory. "It's worse, I'm sorry to say. It got better for a while there after the second task, but things have been going downhill ever since. She's been getting increasingly bossy and critical all the time, and I don't understand why. I'm not sure how much more I can take, to be honest, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe it was a mistake to think we could connect."

"So you don't know what changed?" he asked.

"Hardly anything has changed, except perhaps for me having to spend more time preparing for the third task as it gets closer."

"Sometimes relatively small issues become magnified over time," Dumbledore pointed out. "It might be worthwhile to consider some things that seem insignificant to you, but which might be important to her."

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why are you so interested? I mean, why do you care if she and I are friends? I can't imagine that you involve yourself in all the friendships that develop or fail in Hogwarts."

Dumbledore suddenly looked very tired as he sat there considering my question. "As you may or may not have noticed, there are few muggleborn in our world — no more than three or four in any year group at Hogwarts, and usually fewer. They always have it hard, and some end up returning to the muggle world because of the difficulties they encounter. Such losses diminish all of us and make our world poorer every time. Miss Granger has had it harder than most, and while some of it is her own fault, some of it isn't."

He paused for a moment as he reached for one of his sherbet lemons, then continued, "As headmaster I have an obligation to all of the students who attend Hogwarts, but I have long felt my failure to help Miss Granger most keenly. Because of your own deep connections to the muggle world, I had hoped that you might have enough in common with her to help where I could not. At the same time, I hoped that she might be able to provide you with a more familiar connection to the magical world."

I nodded, not entirely sure what to say. That all sounded reasonable, but logic can't dictate relationships... whether they're simply friendships or something more. I was strongly doubting that even simple friendship would be possible at this point, leaving "something more" completely out of the question — not that they needed to know that.

As I got up to leave, McGonagall said, "One more thing to think about, Miss Potter. I am quite certain that your parents would approve of you befriending and helping a brilliant but somewhat isolated muggleborn witch — especially since your mother was one, once."

* * *

"There you are!"

I jumped at the furious voice behind me and cinched my bathrobe tight to ensure that my costume was completely covered. Spinning around, I found an irate Hermione Granger stepping into the darkened fourth year girls' dormitory, her hair a frazzled mess and dark circles under her eyes.

Damn, but she looked good. It was moments like this that I most regretted my conclusion that she and I would never be able to connect.

I swallowed hard and shook my head to focus. "What are you doing up?"

"Me? Me? How dare you ask me that?" she said, getting even angrier as she practically stomped over to where I was standing next to my bed. "Do you know what time it is?" she demanded. "It's almost three in the morning! I've been sitting down in the common room all night waiting for you! I'd just given up and was coming to bed when I found you up here! And how did you get past me, anyway?"

I gulped, wondering where all of this was coming from. "I don't know how you missed me, but I've been up here for a while. Maybe you fell asleep while waiting? I was, uh, just getting a drink of water when you walked in."

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion being added to her anger. "Don't give me that! I know I didn't fall asleep — I appropriated one of the twins' electric shock shakes—"

"'Appropriated'?" I said dubiously.

"Well, they weren't using it at the time," she replied, looking a bit defensive. "Anyway, I cast a delayed-action charm on it and then I sat on it, so it's been shocking me every few minutes." She grimaced and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It's been a **very** uncomfortable evening — I'm **quite** sure I didn't fall asleep this time."

"This time?" I asked, confused. "You mean, you've done this before?"

"Of course I have!" she hissed, gesticulating wildly with her arms. "You don't believe that your constant absences have gone unnoticed, do you?" I glanced involuntarily over towards Lavender and Parvati's beds, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course they missed it. They barely notice anything that isn't gossip-worthy. But you can't have believed that **I** would fail to notice how often you're missing! If I were a prefect, you can be sure I'd have taken points already!"

"You're mistaken," I insisted, hoping that I could still deflect her suspicions. Hoping, but not confident — this girl was even more tenacious than she was bossy.

"Don't give me that," she retorted, poking a finger into my chest. "It's been obvious for a while now that you haven't committed to what you need to do to learn magic — gallivanting around doing Merlin-knows-what at all hours of the day and night!"

"How dare you accuse me of not trying hard enough to learn magic," I snapped back at her, stepping forward to get in her face. "I've been busting my butt since November trying to learn everything I can, despite being over three years behind the rest of you, while still keeping up with my regular studies!"

I couldn't believe that I'd been falling for this girl. No one could possibly be worth this kind of aggravation.

"That's just it!" Hermione said, her own voice starting to get louder. "No one tries to keep up with all those muggle subjects when doing regular magical studies. You, though... you have this tournament hanging over your head plus you know how far behind you are! You should be using **all** your time to study magic. Every spell you master might increase your chances of survival! It's not like you'll need those muggle subjects anyway!"

"Why wouldn't I need them? I'll simply have to make up all the work when I go back home!"

"Back... home?" Hermione asked. "You mean, you're not staying in the magical world? In Hogwarts?"

"I don't know!" I answered, throwing up my hands. "I **had** to come here for this blasted tournament, but I honestly don't know if I'm staying. I was forced to leave an awful lot behind to be here, not all of which I'm willing to give up. And if I do stick with magic, I'm certain I could study it just as well back in America."

Hermione stepped back with a stricken look on her face, almost as if I'd slapped her. Despite how dark it was, I could see tears well up in her eyes before she turned and ran for her bed. I groaned in frustration — obviously there was a whole lot more going on here than she'd said. Not entirely convinced that it was the right thing to do, I followed her, climbing into her bed right after her, then I used my wand to silence and seal the curtains.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, pushing against my shoulder. "Get out! Get out! You obviously don't want to be here with me, so just get out!"

I grabbed ahold of her hands and held them still, getting a look of surprise when she realized how strong I was. She had no idea how much I'd been holding back during her self-defense lessons. "What is your problem?" I asked.

"Problem? Problem? What makes you think **I** have a problem?"

"Oh, I don't know... maybe your bizarre mood swings were my first clue? You're nice most of the time, but you've been turning into a total bitch around me. You complain about me not doing enough work, despite the fact that I'm ahead of schedule and the professors have all praised how well I'm doing. Then you get upset over the fact that I haven't decided whether to stay at Hogwarts or even keep studying magic once this tournament is over. What is going on?"

"I told you already, you're splitting your time and attention too much despite the danger you're in — both from the tournament and from whoever entered your name," she said as she yanked her hands out of mine and flopped back against her headboard, crossing her arms in sullen defiance.

"Given how nasty you've been getting towards me, I'm surprised you care."

"Care? Of course I care!" she said, her voice rising again. "It's not... it's not like there's anyone else in this castle that I can care about. You're the only one who... who's been really nice to me, except for Neville. But you keep putting yourself in danger by not studying enough... you're missing more and more often, just when I was getting used to not being so lonely... abandoning me like everyone else... you... you're always off studying muggle subjects that I've always wished I had time to study... and... and..."

As Hermione broke down sobbing, I finally started to understand. Hermione Granger, bossy and brilliant but desperately insecure, was jealous. I had become her one friend in the castle — her first friend in a little over three years of schooling here, in fact — and she had become jealous not just of all the time I was spending away from her, but also of how I was allowed to keep up with muggle subjects she must have imagined studying before she got invited to Hogwarts.

Jealousy could cause people to do and say all sorts of stupid things they wouldn't normally.

Sighing, I moved to sit next to the crying girl and pulled her into a sideways hug in an effort to comfort her. Looking back on the past few months, it was hard to see what I could have done differently — there are only so many hours in the day, after all — but maybe I could have done more to reassure her that I wasn't deliberately trying to ignore her. I hadn't realized she'd be so prone to take my absence personally. And maybe... if we couldn't find time to spend together outside of lessons, we could find more time **in** them?

It was hard not to groan out loud, though, when I realized what I had to do next. Okay, so perhaps I could have been a little more perceptive, but **she** was the one who'd been jealous and crabby! _I'm never going to live this down if Daphne and Susan find out..._

"I'm sorry," I said when her sobs slowed enough.

"You... what?" she asked, pulling her head back to look at me.

"I said, I'm sorry."

"But... no, I'm the one who should be sorry! I **am** sorry! I'm the one who's been treating you awfully! I'm the one—"

"I should have been sensitive to your feelings," I said, interrupting her before she could get going. "I didn't think about how spending less and less time with you might look from your side of things. And I didn't think about how you might react to my spending so much time on muggle subjects, especially given how driven and competitive you are. But I should point out that such bossy, controlling behavior tends to push people away. And you don't keep friends by pushing them away like that."

I squeaked in surprise and more than a little discomfort when she rammed her head back into my shoulder and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. "I know, I know I get too bossy and nag too much. I'll try harder!"

Once I could breathe again, I said, "You know, if you wanted to join me in my muggle tutoring, all you had to do was ask."

"Really?" she asked as she pulled back again, her eyes going wide in wonder.

"Sure," I said. "We may have to rearrange a few things to work around your schedule, but I don't see why it couldn't—"

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed, pulling me into yet another hug. "You really are my only friend," she went on. "I felt like I was going mad, not having you around and not knowing where you were. I thought I'd gotten used to being alone... to being lonely, even... but then you came, and..."

Her voice trailed off, her further thoughts left unsaid. And she didn't need to say them, because I felt that I understood.

We continued to lie like that with our backs against her headboard, holding each other until we fell asleep.

* * *

Waking up the next morning was... awkward, to say the least. I'd been having an especially pleasant but strange dream involving a game of "strip wrestling" with Hermione, where every time one of us was pinned we had to remove an article of clothing. Given our normal attire during self-defense lessons, it didn't take long before neither of us was wearing anything. Then...

That was when a loud snore in my ear pulled me rather abruptly out of the dream... and prevented me from finding out what was going to happen next, dammit!

As soon as I tried to move, I discovered that I was in reality pinned to the bed, with all four of Hermione's limbs wrapped impossibly around me while her head was pressed into my shoulder.

Right after that, I discovered something far worse: I had to pee. **Badly.**

This was despite the fact that I'd trained myself to be able to hold it for long periods of time — a necessity on long nights of patrol and surveillance in Gotham. Batman and Robin have it easy when nature calls, but me? Not so much.

Under other circumstances I could have simply woken up her up so I could leave, but during the night my bathrobe had come undone — I blamed her wandering hands, given their current locations under the robe. As a consequence, my costume would be plainly visible if she woke.

That was bad, too, but honestly, having to pee loomed far larger in my mind. Especially since the more I thought about it, the worse it got.

Gingerly, and with as much haste as I thought I could get away with, I disentangled myself from her embrace. The process was complicated by the fact that twice, one or another of her limbs managed to wrap itself back around me while I was working on the next one!

Eventually I was free enough to exit her bed. Luckily no one else was up yet, so I could gather a change of clothes, get to the toilet, then take a very long, very cold shower.

* * *

"This is such a bad idea!"

"Yeah, I think you might have mentioned that once or twice."

"Did I also mention that I'm scared of heights?"

"Yes, several times."

It was well past curfew, the light was fading fast, and Hermione and I were currently scaling the side of Gryffindor Tower. Once she had calmed down and become easier to be around, she remembered about how Hagrid had known my parents quite well, so she dragged me down there after dinner so he and I could chat. That chat turned into a long conversation, and we hadn't realized how late we'd stayed until we arrived at the castle's front doors.

Locked front doors, to be specific.

Hermione hadn't liked the idea of scaling the tower and crawling in through the dorm window I habitually left open (that's what let me get in and out without being seen), but she liked the idea of sleeping outside or getting detentions for being out after curfew even less. Fortunately, she was so preoccupied with how much she hated my idea that she didn't think to ask why our dorm window was open, never mind why I happened to have a grappling gun on me.

I couldn't deny that I was enjoying the position we were in: her in front and me practically molded to her back, my arms wrapped around her and holding the cable right in front of her stomach. It wasn't as efficient a way to climb as it would have been if we were separated, but she was scared, and I had an excuse to hold her tight. I made a mental note to try to get her on a roller coaster... though one that was less extreme than the carts at Gringotts.

Her incessant whining, though, was making me suspect that it might not have been worth it.

"Are we there yet?" she asked.

"Hardly," I said, rolling my eyes. "Our common room is on the seventh floor, and our dorm is a floor above that. We've only just passed the first floor."

"Oh!" she whimpered, making me feel a bit guilty.

"Just keep moving at a steady pace — hand over hand, that's right. We'll get there. It wouldn't be a good idea to sacrifice safety for speed!"

Before she could respond, the window in front of us opened up and a woman with huge glasses and wearing far too many shawls stuck her head out. Judging by the nearly empty bottle of sherry in her hands, her unsteady movements were due to an excess of alcohol.

"Greetings, citizen," I said almost automatically.

"Professor Trelawney!" Hermione cried out. "Can you let us in?"

The woman looked around as though she wasn't sure where the voice had come from, but eventually she managed to focus on Hermione. "Excuse me, but do I know you, dear?"

"Yes, I'm Hermione Granger!"

"Granger? Granger? Oh, yes, you're the witch whose hopelessly mundane mind could not properly fathom the mystical depths of Divination. I saw it before you ever entered my class, yes, just as I saw that I would meet you here at this time. The Inner Eye is both a blessing and a curse..." The professor trailed off, seemingly distracted by one of her shawls as she tried to readjust it.

"Yes, well, be that as it may, could you—" Hermione tried to say, but suddenly Trelawney stiffened, her eyes rolling back in her head, and she began speaking in a deep, harsh voice:

 _"Two Heroes will arise... The ones with the power to defeat the corruption of the magical world approach. One isolated by wealth and one by genius, they will join together to create a new force for justice. Striking from the shadows instead of the light, they will drive back the darkness and restore hope. Two Heroes will arise..."_

She was silent for a moment, then began coughing and blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" she asked.

"Um, no, but you..." Hermione started to reply, only to stop when the professor took a long pull from her bottle, finishing it.

"Oh, dear, it seems that I've run out. Good evening," she said, closing the window and locking it.

"She... she... that..." Hermione sputtered.

"I guess it's a good thing I didn't take Divination?"

"You have no idea," Hermione growled, now acting more determined than ever to finish our climb and get back into the castle.

By the time we reached the fourth floor, the wind was making us rather cold, and Hermione was almost constantly shivering. Unfortunately, neither of us could afford to let go of the cable to cast a warming charm.

That was also where the second window opened.

"There you two are! Everyone is looking for you!"

"Sirius?" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Where'd you get those glasses?"

"And what's with that cheesy moustache?" Hermione asked.

"Shhh!" he responded, pressing a finger to his lips. "This is my disguise. While I'm here, call me Gordon White. Cool name, huh? Makes me sound boring but respectable."

"That's not going to fool anyone!" Hermione protested.

"It has so far," Sirius said with a shrug. "Even old Snivellus didn't recognize me."

"Who's Snivellus?" I asked.

Sirius started to answer but abruptly broke off to look over his shoulder at some noise. "Uh-oh, I think I hear Filch. I can probably fool him, but I doubt I can fool Mrs. Norris." He turned back to look at us with a panicked expression. "Run! Hide!" He then violently closed the window and locked it.

"Run where? Hide where?"

"Amy, there's something very wrong with your godfather."

"You won't get any arguments from me. Come on, if they're searching for us, we don't have any time to waste." That seemed to spur Hermione on, and we climbed the last half a bit faster than we did the first. Fortunately no one was in our dorm to see how we entered, and we later pretended that we'd been in there studying the entire time.

Well, I did. Hermione mostly just nodded in agreement and looked guilty, finding it difficult to not tell the truth to any authority figure. I'm not sure anyone believed us, but they couldn't prove otherwise and so let the matter drop.

Hermione was another matter entirely. From the time we were safely in the dorm until the time we went to bed, I felt her eyes on me. Whenever I looked at her, though, she was looking at something else, a suspicious expression on her face. It seemed that she may not have been quite as oblivious to the grappling gun as I had hoped.

* * *

Will Amy be prepared for the third task? What dangers await her as this treacherous tournament comes to a close? Will the fiend who has forced her participation in so many perils finally be revealed? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!

* * *

 **A/N:** Those of you who haven't watched the 1966 Batman TV series might not get the joke about them climbing the tower. So if you want to understand what all the other readers are currently laughing about, google "Batman 1966 wall climb." The top result should be a video with the title "1966 The Complete Batman Guest Star Window Cameos (14)." Also, keep in mind that if Sirius is being played by Gary Oldman, then this hasn't been his first foray into the Batman universe...


	8. Tournament's End

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing — I love seeing readers' thoughts and opinions. As always, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping to make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Havoc Side of the Force" by Tsu Doh Nimh. No matter what galaxy he's in, Harry Potter seems to have a gift for messing up other people's plans — good guys and bad guys. He just can't help it, so he's decided to go with the flow and have as much fun with it as he can.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 08 - Tournament's End**

 **Late June, 1995.**

"No, no, no, you're letting your elbow stick out too far. You have to keep it close to your body. Try again!"

I groaned in pain and frustration as I retook my place, waiting to be attacked once more.

Somehow, I'd managed to repress my memories of how vicious of a taskmaster Dick could be. I must have, otherwise I'd never have come up with the bright idea of asking him to help me combine my own training with my efforts to train Hermione. His solution was for him and Hermione to attack me as a team. She wasn't good enough for me to be immediately overwhelmed, but if I didn't watch her she'd get in enough hits to make a difference.

She was inexperienced but sneaky, and Dick was doing his best to help her get better. As a result, every session was a little bit harder for me. And usually a little more painful, too. It might not have been so bad if Hermione hadn't looked so damned smug about it.

Unfortunately, with Dick there pushing his intense training regimen, I no longer had the opportunity to just admire Hermione in her workout clothing, much less enjoy the grappling. Granted, the changes also forced me to become more focused during training, which meant I was learning more and getting better, but still... the training sessions were a lot less fun as a result.

It also meant I was taking a lot more cold showers, too.

"Good hit, Hermione!" Dick said. "You saw her leave her back open and struck hard. Of course, in a real fight, you'd want to hit something other than her rear end, but a solid slap there with a staff is fine during training."

My magical education was progressing even more quickly. I hadn't covered the full fourth-year curriculum, not by a long shot, but I was doing quite a few fourth- and even some fifth-year spells — and doing them well, too, according to the professors. If I decided to continue with Hogwarts, I'd probably be able to slip right into fifth year alongside Hermione, Ron, and Neville, as if I'd been here all along.

I hadn't actually decided yet, and Bruce was still hesitant about approving the use of a time turner so I could keep up on muggle subjects — especially after learning in great detail what had happened to Hermione. However, knowing that I'd be able to take magical classes with the people I'd have been sorted with had I gotten my original Hogwarts letter made the prospect of returning here a little more appealing somehow.

"Another good hit! Amy, you need to do a better job at watching your back."

Bruce's project of finding ways to integrate magic with our standard gear was the least far along of everything. The way magic interfered with technology was the biggest stumbling block because he'd shifted over to mostly high-tech tools in recent years. No matter how nifty magic was, it wasn't worth crashing the Bat Computer every couple of days.

There were some promising options, like enchanting our grappling lines to be lighter and stronger, thus allowing us to carry much heavier loads, but that wasn't anywhere close to the testing phase. Another suggestion was to integrate undetectable expansion charms with the compartments of our utility belts; on the other hand, the belts already held plenty, so really, what was the point?

"OK, that's enough," Dick finally said, ending that evening's session. I leaned against the closest wall and slid to the ground, stifling a low groan at the pain that flared in my backside.

"You're doing a lot better, Amy," Dick said as he gathered his gear. "It's getting much harder for us to make successful hits."

"Yeah, great, thanks," I muttered. My butt sure didn't feel like those two were having a tougher time connecting.

"In fact... I'm thinking that we'll need to increase the difficulty."

"Wha huh?" Surely I misheard him!

"Yeah, next time, we'll try it with you wearing a blindfold."

"That's a great idea," Hermione added in a way-too-cheerful voice. "You never know when you'll have to fight in the dark."

"Precisely, Hermione!" Dick responded, sounding disturbingly like Bruce in that moment. "To be effective in a fight, you have to be able to use all of your senses."

"Does my sense of self-preservation count?" I called after them as they exited the room. "How about my strong sense that this is a really bad idea...?"

* * *

Hermione was already rinsing off by the time I made it to our dorm showers. I'd like to say I had the fortitude and strength of character not to peek, but the truth was that I was simply too tired and sore to even think about that. It seemed like I was feeling that way a lot more often, as well as growing short-tempered due to the third and final task approaching.

"Where've you been?" she called out, still sounding cheerful. "I was afraid I'd have to go back and carry you to the dorm!"

"Ugh. Once I was sitting down, I didn't want to get back up again."

Hermione's behavior and attitude, in contrast, had gotten a lot better over the past couple of weeks.

"I guess I didn't hit you as hard as I thought, then," she said.

Well, mostly better. It seemed that our late-night conversation had done both of us a lot of good, and she hadn't even acted awkward when she finally got up the following morning. I figured that she'd probably forgotten about us having fallen asleep together.

"It's amazing how intense and skilled Dick is," Hermione continued. "It's almost like he's a soldier or something."

I winced and turned up the hot shower spray, hoping that she'd think I hadn't heard her. She may have calmed down with me spending more time with her, but in exchange she seemed to have become more suspicious. She wasn't waiting for me in the common room late at night anymore, but I wasn't sure that she was always asleep when I returned from my patrols. She was also asking rather pointed questions that seemed designed to sound casual, but which always involved something I didn't much want to talk about in any great detail.

"Hurry up, it's almost time for dinner," she said, poking her head around the stall divider. I blinked rapidly as I took in her wet, matted hair and the drops of water that glistened as they rolled down her neck, along her shoulders, and...

"I'll wait for you in the common room!" she said as her head disappeared.

I swallowed hard and heaved a deep sigh as I shifted the shower temperature from hot to cold.

* * *

The evening of the third task saw a shift in a (very short) tradition: Alfred coming in to serve me dinner before the event rather than after. This time it was a nice steak salad, except that it was served in an ornate golden goblet that looked remarkably like a miniature Goblet of Fire. I smiled in appreciation, but before I could take my first bite, Dobby popped in behind me — right on time.

He didn't have anything with him this time and just frowned at the salad goblet, then at a self-satisfied Alfred, then back at the goblet again. Finally his eyes brightened and a smile spread across his face as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The goblet shuddered, drawing my attention back to it. I could see that it had changed: now my name was inscribed on one side and the words "Triwizard Champion" were on the other.

Dobby stood there with his arms crossed, looking as proud as I'd ever seen him. Alfred, in contrast, looked stunned at having been outdone with his own meal. Then he straightened up, turned to Dobby, and gave him a quick bow in acknowledgment before leaving the Great Hall.

"Thanks Dobby," I said. "This goblet looks nice — perfect for Alfred's salad. But you know, you might accomplish more and maybe even learn a few things by working **with** him rather than **against** him. I'll bet you both have tons of things you could teach each other."

Dobby cocked his head in thought for a moment, then said, "Missy Amyrilly Potter Ma'am is not only being the greatest witch in the world, but also the smartest! Dobby be doing that, yes ma'am!" He then popped away, leaving me to my salad and my worries about what would be happening in the next few hours.

* * *

"Remember to keep your eyes and ears open," Bruce was telling me. "The fiend who put your name in the Goblet has yet to reveal themselves, so it makes sense that if they're going to do it, it will probably happen tonight."

"Whatever happens, Amy, we won't be far," Dick added. "I've double- and triple-checked the trackers in your boots, your utility belt, and your hair. They won't last long in all this ambient magic, despite being EMP-hardened, but as soon as one goes out, the next will activate. Taken all together, it should be enough to keep a fix on your location throughout the task."

I nodded and ran my hands over my gear, making sure I had everything. I had the armor plate inserts in my Batgirl suit, which I was wearing under my robes. My utility belt was fully stocked and on my waist. My wand was in a holster on my arm.

"I have everything, including my dad's—"

"Good luck, Amy!" I was struck hard in the side by Hermione as she ran up to give me a hug.

"Easy, there," Dick said. "Let's not injure her too badly before the task starts."

"Oh, sorry! Sorry!"

"Attention, champions!" Bagman called out. "The third task is about to start. Just as a reminder, you're not allowed to bring in any magical items except your wand."

"Crap!" I exclaimed.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"My dad's cloak — I thought it might be a good way of getting around some of the creatures in there. But now I can't use it!" I reached into my utility belt — pleased now that we hadn't charmed it — and pulled out the shimmering cloth. "Here," I said, shoving it into Hermione's hands. "Keep it safe for me."

"You sure?" she asked, surprised that I'd hand her something so old and valuable.

"Of course, I trust you."

"Champions, time to gather together!"

I hugged Bruce, Dick, and Hermione goodbye and made my way over to the maze entrance where it looked like Fleur was trying to get Dick's attention.

"Amy!" she said, kissing me on each cheek in greeting. "You must 'elp me with Deek! Everything I try, 'e zimply ignores, and I will not stand for zat! I 'ave been unable to sleep and I zink of nothing else. I zimply must have Deek!"

"You mean, he's not acknowledging your natural superiority by following your lead? How dare he!"

"Zut alors!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. "You understand! I did not zink anyone in zis cold, desolate country would!"

I rolled my eyes and gently patted her back. I had no trouble seeing why Dick ran when he saw her, if this was her attitude.

That didn't mean I was going to make it easier for him, though — not after the hell of training he'd put me through over the past weeks.

"Of course I'll help," I said sweetly, giving her my best smile. "If you want Dick, you'll get Dick. After the task is over, I'll make sure you get our address and phone number back home. I'll also tell you about all his favorites — foods, colors, music, everything."

"Zat would be wonderful!" she said, all teeth and smiles. "Zat will let me take Deek in hand and mold 'im into a better man all ze sooner!"

Bagman started reviewing the rules at that point, preventing me from giving that comment the response it deserved. Despite the last-minute points awarded after the second task, I was still in last place overall, so I entered the maze a full three minutes after first-place champion Cedric Diggory.

* * *

"So... I need to turn left? No, wait... right? Dammit!" I wanted to shout in frustration at the bizarre readings I was getting from my Bat Compass. It wasn't digital and had no electronics in it, so it shouldn't have been affected by magic. Yet apparently even simple magnetism didn't act correctly inside a large enough field of ambient magic, something I'd have to make sure Bruce knew about.

Putting away the Bat Compass, I pulled out my wand and cast _Point Me_ , getting "magical north," which I hoped was also magnetic north. Once oriented, I headed down the righthand path. I had barely turned the corner before I was confronted with a monstrosity that looked like it might have come right out of the pages of a Lovecraft novel. It didn't even seem to have a face, let alone eyes, but the way it started moving towards me was enough of a clue that it had seen me. Somehow.

At least the blasts of fire it used to propel itself along were aimed in the opposite direction!

I didn't think that any of my spells would penetrate what looked like pretty thick armor, so instead of fighting, I chose evasion. I threw a handful of smoke pellets between me and the thing and extended the portable Bat Pole. Designed to replicate the equipment used for pole vaulting, it was handy for quickly getting over fences and walls.

And fire-farting monsters, apparently.

Unfortunately, going over the thing without it seeing me meant that I put myself on its fire-farting end, so I had to move fast to get far enough way that I wouldn't get singed. Once I got around the next corner, I took a moment to stop and take a few breaths in relief. I had some experience evading trained animals, like the Joker's hyenas, but this was a whole new level.

After a minute, I set out at a jog, regularly stopping to orient myself and going around several corners before coming upon another strange creature, though this one seemed more familiar. It had the body of a lion, a long tail, and a human woman's head and torso with large... **assets**.

Amazingly large, in fact. _Good grief, how does she balance with those things? Are they even real, or did she get implants?_ I reluctantly forced my gaze upwards to look her in the eye rather than ogle her, and found her smirking back at me.

"Greetings, little witch," she said. "I am a sphinx, and if you can get past me, you will be closer to your goal."

Thinking about her large paws with the long, sharp claws, I readied my wand while I reached for a thermite grenade in my utility belt. "I don't suppose I can just ask nicely?"

Her smirk widened. "No, you will find no such easy path here. To get past me, you must answer a riddle of mine. A correct answer will open the path behind me. Silence will allow you to return to the path behind you, unmolested. An incorrect answer, however, will allow me to attack, and I wasn't given a meal before I took my position here earlier today." With that, she gave me a toothy smile, revealing that her teeth seemed to go with the lion half of her rather than the human.

I gulped audibly and was sure that her smile widened, but after a moment I nodded. "Go ahead, ask. Couldn't be any worse than anything I've had to solve from the Riddler."

The last was only muttered under my breath, but evidently sphinxes had excellent hearing.

"Riddler?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, waving the subject off as irrelevant. "He's a criminal named Nygma who has adopted the moniker 'Riddler' when committing crimes."

"Nygma?" she asked excitedly. "Eddie? You know Eddie?"

I never would have thought that a sphinx could hop around like a puppy on meth. She was making it really, **really** hard to keep my gaze focused on her face. " **You** know Edward Nygma?" I asked. "How?"

"Oh, Eddie came into our sphinx colony after having wandered lost in the desert for days. We were looking forward to eating him, but of course we started out by asking him riddles — it's just what we do, you know. Anyway, he kept answering riddle after riddle, no matter how hard they were. Eventually some of us got tired of it and were going to eat him anyway, but that would have been a violation of our customs. Instead of sending him back into the desert, we let him stay and learn from us. Can you believe it? We'd never had a human who wanted to learn our ways, and he was already so good with riddles, too. He lived with me and my kits for over a year and never once gave us cause to eat him."

"That... would probably explain a few things about him," I said. _Like why he's nuttier than squirrel shit._

"When he eventually left, we completely lost track of him. We had no idea where he went, and a bunch of us have just been **dying** to see him again!" She got a thoughtful look as she added, "Or maybe it's the other way around..."

"Oh?" My interest in this conversation shot up about a thousand percent. "And why is that?"

"We have so many new riddles to ask him!" she exclaimed, bouncing around again. Oh, so much bouncing.

"And what if he can't answer these new riddles?"

"Well, we finally get to eat him, of course," she answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 _Hmmm, now there's an idea..._

"Here, this may help," I said, pulling out some paper and a pen. "Usually he can be found in or around Gotham City in the United States. When I was there last, he was in Arkham Asylum. It's a special home for the, uh, sanity-challenged among us."

I handed the eager sphinx the paper and added, "I don't know if he's still there, but if not he'll probably be back, sooner or later. Either way, though, there are often other people there who might love some of your riddles, too, Friends of Eddie. Be sure to ask for the Joker and Jonathan Crane while you're there."

"Thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed. "I appreciate this so much. My name's Fatima, by the way."

"I'm Amy — pleased to meet you."

"You know, if I could, I'd let you pass without a riddle by way of thanks, but I just can't do it. Even if it weren't against my nature, I signed a contract."

I shrugged. "That's OK, I understand. I didn't do this with any expectations."

"Oh, now I absolutely must do something... hmmm... I know! I'll ask you one of the riddles we taught Eddie! Here goes: What weighs six ounces, sits in a tree, and is very dangerous?"

"I got it! A sparrow with a machine gun!"

"Oooh, you're good!" she said admiringly. "It took Eddie a couple of hours to get that one." She paused while looking me up and down. "I don't suppose you'd like to come back to our colony, would you?"

"Uh, no thank you, ma'am. I'm happy here."

"Pity." She sounded like she meant it. She also sounded like she was hungry, which was why I was so eager to get out of there.

"Good luck tracking down the Rid... er, in finding Eddie!" I said over my shoulder as I rushed past the sphinx. I'd have to remember to warn Bruce about this, just in case he was around when these "ladies" showed up for visiting hours.

I hadn't gotten far before I heard a scream from what sounded like a couple of rows away. I probably wouldn't have paid too much attention, assuming it was yet another creature, but when I heard a second scream, I realized that it sounded an awful lot like Fleur.

And that wasn't something I could ignore.

It took me a few tries to find the right path, and I was absolutely horrified by what I discovered. Fleur was writhing on the ground under a curse being cast by Krum. I wasn't sure what spell he was using, but I suspected that it might be the torture curse which Professor Moody had discussed during one of his lessons.

I didn't know if attacking one champion in order to defend a second was permitted, but to be quite honest, I didn't much care at that point — not with how Fleur was screaming in pain. Normally I probably would have used a batarang to knock him out, but I chose to try using magic instead: _Bombarda_ to knock him away, _Locomotor Wibbly_ to make him lose his balance, and _Incarcerous_ to bind him. Even after all that, he was still ranting incoherently, so I hit him with _Stupefy_ just to shut him up.

"Fleur? It's Amy," I said as I knelt next to the French champion. "How are you doing?"

At first she just moaned and twitched while grabbing tightly to my robe. Eventually she said. "Amy? Why did 'e do zat? It was ze Torture Curse. I 'ave never experienced pain like zat..."

"He's down and out now," I told her. "He's not going to be hurting anyone else for a while, and probably not ever again, once the aurors get ahold of him."

"It still 'urts..."

"You know, Dick has always been great with nursing me back to health. And with massaging sore muscles."

"Truly?" she asked, her eyes brightening with interest.

"Oh, absolutely. And he can't resist a damsel in distress, so if you play your cards right, he won't be able to leave your bedside."

She allowed herself to lie back on the ground and threw her arm rather dramatically across her forehead. "Oh, ze **pain**!" She eyed me from under the crook of her arm and added, "If zis 'elps me get my Deek, I will call zat ze best curse I 'ave ever been put under."

I cast a burst of red sparks to attract the attention of the professors, then wished her luck and jogged off while Fleur continued to moan loudly. How much of that was genuine and how much was simply her practicing for "Deek," I didn't know. I'd heard that the Triwizard Tournament was intended to foster international cooperation and understanding, though I was doubtful that the tournament organizers had my ideas about bringing people together in mind.

Not that I particularly cared. I simply enjoyed doing so many good deeds.

I was wondering what Hermione would think about my good deeds when I rounded a corner and came face-to-face with the absolute last person I would ever have expected to see anywhere near Hogwarts.

The Joker!

"Hee Hee Hee! The little Batgirl looks surprised to see me! You mean you haven't figured out that I've been behind what's been going on?"

"What are you after?" I demanded as I took up a fighting stance.

"I just wanted to play! I got so bored sitting in Arkham, and I thought to myself, 'I'd like to have a pizza!'"

"Um, what? What's that got to do with me?"

"Nothing at all. But after I broke out to get my pizza, that's when I decided to have some fun playing with you!" he answered with his maniacal grin.

"I warn you, I play rough," I growled.

"Good, but I play rougher."

"Fine, do your worst!"

He grinned even wider as he reached behind his back. With one hand he pulled out a crowbar, and with the other he was holding a whimpering, sobbing Hermione by her hair.

"What?!" I screamed. "How did you... where...?"

"You said I should do my worst, and I can't think of anything worse than this!" He grinned as he looked down at Hermione. "She's been a very, very bad girl and she must be punished!"

My whole body was shaking as he lifted the crowbar above his head, and as Hermione started to scream a distant memory came to me — a memory of a dark magical creature that showed you your worst fears...

 _"_ _ **Riddikulus!**_ _"_ I yelled, casting a spell at what I thought — hoped — was a boggart.

The spell affected him... but all it did was change the Joker's clown makeup into a different style. He just looked at me and laughed as I kept casting. _"_ _ **Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Ri... Ri... Riddikulus!**_ _"_

Every time, there was no more effect than a slight change in his makeup. And every time, casting got harder as I found it more and more difficult to tear my eyes away from Hermione's sobbing face.

The Joker laughed at my weakness and my pitiful attempts to stop him. "I'm already a joke!" he said. "How could you possibly make me any more ridiculous than I already am?"

He raised his crowbar once more, saying, "This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me!" I watched it descend towards Hermione's unprotected head, almost as if it were in slow motion. Before it could strike, I screamed in rage, thrusting my hands outward in my desire to put a stop to the scene in front of me.

I was never sure what exactly happened after that. There was at first a tremendous flash of light around my hands that blinded me; immediately after that was a horrible scream, unlike anything I'd ever heard before, followed closely by crashing sounds some ways off. When I could see again, there was a dark stain where the Joker and Hermione had been, plus another dark stain around the hedge facing me, about 10 meters away.

I crawled to the stain closest to me and put on a glove so I could safely probe it with a finger, finding that it was more dust and ash than anything else. No blood, no hair, no scraps of clothing.

Nothing to say that the Joker, Hermione, or anyone else had just been there.

Maybe it was a boggart, maybe it wasn't. What little I'd read about them never mentioned anything like this. As long as it wasn't really Hermione, though, I didn't much care. I needed a bit to gather myself together before I could even stumble away from the scene, unable to walk or think in a straight line. That had been by far the worst experience of my life, and I hoped never to repeat it.

I also didn't care much about the tournament anymore — I was simply too emotionally drained. That's why I didn't bother using the Four-Point Spell again to orient myself, instead just wandering blindly.

Yet before long I heard the telltale sounds of spellfire. Years of training kicked in, and almost despite myself I peered around the corner rather than just blundering into a fight.

To my horror, I saw Cedric Diggory battling what looked like one of Shelob's kids... and losing.

That shook me out of my stupor pretty quick. I could see that his spells weren't having much of an impact on the spider, which was why he was losing ground. If **he** couldn't beat back the monster spider with magic, it was unlikely that I'd be able to, so I put away my wand and pulled out a batarang with a line attached. While Cedric continued to keep the spider's attention, I was able to move into position and throw the batarang, tying up the spider's many legs and sending it crashing to the ground. A second batarang to the head knocked it out.

"Wow, thanks, Amy! That's... um... is that even a spell?" Cedric asked as I helped him stand up.

"No, it's a muggle weapon," I answered. "You weren't having much luck using magic against the spider monster, so I didn't even bother trying."

"It's an acromantula, actually," he said, giving it a wide berth as he walked around it. "A friend of Hagrid's, apparently."

"He's friends? With that?"

Cedric nodded. "He has an odd definition of what constitutes safe."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I said with a slight shudder. No way was I visiting him again without at least one extra person as backup.

"Have you seen the others?" Cedric asked as we moved away from the creature.

"Unfortunately. Krum attacked Fleur with a torture curse. I knocked him out, too, and called for help for her."

"Really?" Cedric asked, shocked at that news. "I got some bad vibes around him, but I never would have expected him to do something like that!"

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?" I observed automatically.

"True enough," he said, then he stopped short and pointed ahead of us. "Look, it's the cup! That acromantula must have been the final obstacle!"

I gave a low whistle, thinking that it looked rather nicer than the Goblet of Fire did. "Well," I asked, turning to look at him expectantly. "What are you waiting for?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were ahead of me. You were the first on this final path to the cup. Go get it!"

Cedric shook his head. "I may have been ahead of you, but you caught up. I wouldn't even be standing now if it weren't for you."

"So? That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Cedric said, sounding resolute. He was a Hufflepuff, and I'd been told that Hufflepuffs valued fair play a great deal. After a moment's hesitation, he demonstrated that quite clearly by saying, "Why don't we take it together?"

"You mean, split the victory, prize money, and eternal glory?" I asked, getting a grin in return. "OK, that sounds fair."

Taking up positions on either side of the cup, we each grabbed a handle. I immediately felt this odd sensation in my stomach, like there was a hook in there, trying to pull me along. What followed was the most nauseating ride I'd ever had in my life.

* * *

 _Meanwhile, outside the maze..._

Throughout the third task, Bruce and Dick stared not at the maze, but instead at a boxy device they held in their hands. Standing far enough away to avoid the curiosity of other spectators and the worst of the ambient magic, they'd point at the device every so often and say something like, "Why isn't she moving?" but otherwise they didn't interact with each other. They just stared intently and waited.

After a long and tense period of time, they both stiffened. "Another one died... wait, why didn't the next activate?"

Bruce punched several buttons on the device before answering, "It did... she must not be in the maze anymore."

"But where?"

"Extending range," Bruce said while spinning a dial. "100km... 200... 300... She's almost 400km away!"

"Holy long-distance travel, Bruce! How'd she get so far away!"

There was a slight shimmer in the air behind them when that was said.

"I don't know, Dick. It looks like a small village called Little Hangleton, and whoever took her there most assuredly did not do so for the sake of her good health!"

"What do we do now?"

"There's only one means of travel available that has any hope of getting us to Amy in time."

"But that will take almost an hour, even at maximum speed!" Dick exclaimed, clearly upset.

"Oh, ye of little faith. Shortly after we arrived in Britain, I had the engines overhauled and new turbochargers installed. With a little luck and a favorable tailwind, we might make it in just half that time."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Right you are — to the Batcopter!"

Both of them immediately ran towards Hogsmeade, completely missing Hermione's head appearing in mid-air as the hood of Amy's cloak slid to her shoulders.

"Batcopter?" she whispered in confusion.

She had no idea what was going on, but she didn't have time to worry about that right now. Amy was in trouble, and Hermione had just watched the only two people who knew her location leaving to save her. She could either go with them to help, or she could head back to let the adults know.

She quickly pulled the hood back up over her head, realizing that her choice had already been made. Maybe it had been made that night they slept in each other's arms. Or maybe all the way back on a warm November day in Diagon Alley.

After casting a silencing spell on her feet, she ran as fast as she could towards Hogsmeade.

* * *

Oh, no! Can Batman and Robin get to Amy in time, or will this be the end for Batgirl? Will Hermione help or hinder our heroes? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!


	9. Graveyard Trouble

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing — I love seeing readers' thoughts and opinions. As always, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping to make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

A couple of readers have wondered about the reference to The Shadow in the previous chapter. This was simply a nod to a character who was an important influence on the Batman character. According to some who have dug deep, the first Batman story, "The Case of the Chemical Syndicate," was written by Bill Finger, not Robert Kane, and he was simply copying a pulp magazine story of The Shadow. Even without that connection, though, there are a lot of parallels between the two characters, so the quote seemed appropriate.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Invincible" by Kathryn518. HP/DC crossover. Events in the graveyard at the end of the Triwizard Tournament go rather differently for Harry Potter. He learns about all the lies, all the manipulations, and about a long-hidden secret regarding his father's true origins. With Sirius in tow, he turns his back on Britain in order to learn more about the wider world. In progress, slow updates.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 09 - Graveyard Trouble**

 **Late June, 1995.**

"Well, that sucked." I just barely resisted the urge to throw up as I slowly picked myself up off the ground where Cedric and I had been deposited. "What happened to us?"

"Portkey," Cedric answered, not looking much better than I felt. "They're usually unpleasant the first few times, but once you get used to them they aren't so bad. That one, though... that was a lot rougher than most, especially early on."

"Where are we, anyway?" I asked as I looked around. "It looks like a graveyard, but I don't remember seeing one. This can't be part of the task — we already grabbed the trophy."

"There's a graveyard on Hogwarts grounds, but this isn't it."

"I don't like it. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Wands out, do you reckon?" Cedric asked, shooting me a lopsided grin that apparently made a lot of witches swoon. It did nothing for me, but I nodded in agreement. A moment later, we saw what looked like a person approaching us through the mist.

"Hello there!" Cedric called out, putting his wand hand behind his back. When he noticed me glaring at him, he explained, "What if it's a muggle? If they don't see anything, we won't have to call in the Obliviators."

I didn't like it, but he had a point, so I kept my wand out of sight as well.

"Can you help us?" Cedric said. "We seem to be lost."

"There they are, Wormtail," came a high-pitched, sibilant voice from the figure. "Capture Potter. Kill the spare."

The word "kill" was already enough to get me moving even before I saw the figure raise one hand, holding either a wand or a gun. I planted a boot in Cedric's chest and sent him flying backwards just before a green bolt of light flew through the space he'd been standing in. I caught a look of surprise and fear on his face before he toppled back into the cup and they both vanished.

Making sure Cedric was out of the way meant I didn't have enough time to dodge myself, and I heard a whispered _Stupefy!_ before the world went black.

* * *

When I woke up, I found myself tied up vertically with my arms sticking straight out at my sides, almost as if I were waiting to be crucified. That was not a pleasant thought, but far more important was what was happening in front of me: a dumpy man in a black robe was preparing a large, missionary-sized cauldron with a bubbling, colorful potion.

"Who are you, and what are you doing?" I called out, fishing for information. When I didn't get a response, I tried again, "Hey, you, butterball! You deaf or something?" That earned me a quick, hateful glare, but he didn't say anything before returning to his potion.

"Look, if you release me and explain what's going on, I promise that I'll do whatever I can to make sure they go easy on you," I said, trying a more conciliatory approach. "I'm sure that whatever is wrong, we can find some way to work it out like mature, civilized adults."

The completely unexpected sound of laughter emanating from a bundle of rags on the ground drew my shocked attention. Then I heard the sibilant voice from earlier. "Do you hear that, Wormtail? She wants to bargain with you!"

OK, so Butterball was Wormtail. Why did that name sound vaguely familiar?

"What you don't seem to understand, Amy Potter, is that you have only one thing we want — and we intend to take it by force anyway. So you have nothing to bargain with!"

I frowned at that. Villains usually want something that is hard to get — hard enough that it can't be obtained legally, thus the "villain" job title. So what was it I had that they insisted on taking by force and which couldn't or wouldn't be handed over legally?

 _Oh..._ _ **crap!**_

Not that!

"Don't you dare touch me, you psycho!" I hollered as I started struggling against my bonds. "Even someone as ugly as you should be able to buy it, if they want it that bad! If you come anywhere near me with your disgusting little tallywhacker, I'm going to cut it off and feed it to you! And then I'm going to get nasty!"

That made Wormtail stumble as he moved around the cauldron, which made me hope that I was getting through to him.

"No, you stupid little witch!" came the voice from the dirty bundle on the ground. "We don't want that! We want your blood!"

"Eww! Blood? What are you, vampires?" I asked as I made gagging noises. "Well, it doesn't matter! I don't care how sparkly and mysterious you are, I don't want either of you anywhere near me!"

This time Wormtail just stopped and looked at me in bafflement.

"Ignore her insane raving, Wormtail! Hurry up with the potion, our time grows short!"

Dumpy little Wormtail picked up the pace and was soon finished with whatever he needed to do to prepare the cauldron. He then came over to me and waved his wand over the ground in front of where I was tied up. "Bone of the father, unknowingly taken, you will revive your son." After a few seconds, old bones rose up out of the ground, and he took one to deposit in the cauldron.

"Grave robbing now?" I asked. "Are there no fiendish depths to which you will not sink?"

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will restore your lord." His already thin voice ended on a squeak, and just then a blade came flashing down. There was a thunk and a splash as something — was that his **hand**?! — dropped into the cauldron.

I had to fight not to throw up — not even the Joker's minions were ever asked to do something that horrible! Clearly, the magical world's villains were a lot worse than those in the muggle world. The Sorting Hat was right: something desperately needed to be done for this society. I'd have to give that serious thought... assuming I made it out of this predicament alive, that is.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," he said as he came at me with the same black, wicked-looking knife.

"Hey! What... you don't need to do this... stay away... OW! That **hurt**!" And boy, did it ever! He couldn't get the knife through the puncture-resistant Kevlar suit I had under my robe, so he had to settle for the back of my hand, where he traced a line of fire. I'd been cut before, but it had never burned like this, and I wondered if it had been cursed.

After Wormtail flicked my blood into the cauldron, the potion inside started roiling and bubbling while colored lights seemed to flash deep inside.

"Now, Wormtail, now!" shouted the creepy little voice. Wormtail picked up the bundle in one hand and let whatever was inside fall into the cauldron. That made it bubble even more violently, but after a few seconds it went still. Then a pasty-white, emaciated figure rose up out of the vessel and said, "Robe me, Wormtail."

I just stared in shock. Unnaturally thin? Check. Unnaturally white? Check. Slits for a nose? Check. Red eyes? Check. All I needed to see was the pointy canines and I'd have been right about him being a vampire.

"Your arm, Wormtail," the possible vampire said. When he yanked back the sobbing man's sleeve and pressed his wand into the black tattoo that was there, I started to think that I might be in more trouble than I'd realized. That tattoo looked like a Dark Mark, which made them Death Eaters at the very least. More worrisome was the fact that only Voldemort was supposed to have the ability to use his Mark, which was what this vampire guy just did.

But Voldemort was long dead, wasn't he?

"Now we shall see how many will return to the service of Lord Voldemort, and how many flee from my wrath."

Apparently not. It wasn't long before a bunch of wizards appeared, each with a different label on the front of their black robes: Death Eater #1, Death Eater #2, etc., all the way up to Death Eater #6. They slowly gathered around Mr. Tall-and-Pasty, kowtowing before him as he monologued about how great he was for being able to come back from the dead.

Since he wasn't giving much valuable information away like he was supposed to, I tuned him out and tried working on my bonds instead. I still had my utility belt, which was great, but there was no way I could reach it. Hopefully at least one of the trackers kept working through the portkey trip, allowing Bruce and Dick to find and rescue me.

Eventually.

Suddenly I realized that the graveyard had gone silent, and when I looked up I found them all standing in front of me, evil grins just visible below their silver masks. "So, uh, can I go now?" I asked.

"Not just yet, Amy Potter," Mr. Tall-and-Pasty said. "First I must show the world that I am indeed more powerful than the Girl Who Lived. Then, and only then, will you be allowed to return to Hogwarts."

"Really?" I said hopefully.

"Your body will return, at any rate."

Well, crap.

"Surely you wouldn't deny me my moment here?" he went on. "I went through a tremendous amount of effort to capture you, after all. Your failure to appear at Hogwarts after your eleventh birthday was worrisome, as was the failure of everyone to find you. I was the one who realized that the magic of the Goblet of Fire might make it possible to track you down. I was the one who manipulated the key people to ensure that not only was the Triwizard Tournament revived, but would be hosted at Hogwarts. I was the one who made sure that your name was entered and the Goblet confunded to pick you as a fourth participant. I was the one who arranged for you to get to the cup first so you could participate in the ritual which resurrected me."

I knew someone must have gone to some effort to get me to Hogwarts, but the machinations behind my presence there had been far more complex and sinister than I'd imagined.

With a wave of his wand, my bonds loosed and dropped with a thud to the ground below. "Wormtail, return her wand." I felt my wand shoved back into my hand while someone else grabbed me by my robes and hauled me up to my feet. "Now, it is time for us to duel. You have been instructed in the finer arts of dueling, have you not?"

"Uh, no," I answered, looking around for the best means of escape. "If you could recommend a good instructor, I'll go get that taken care of and then call you about rescheduling, yeah?"

"I think not," he said. _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_

The world exploded as thousands of burning hot knives began stabbing me across every inch of my body. I convulsed and screamed as I fell to the ground, writhing about. I couldn't think, I couldn't plan, I couldn't even cry. There was just the pain — never-ending, infinite pain that I'd have done anything to put a stop to.

I didn't know if I screamed for minutes or days, but eventually he did cancel the curse. "That was for your impertinence," he said calmly as I continued to convulse and moan. "Every time you fail to show the proper respect, you will receive another lesson. Each lesson will last a bit longer until you either learn manners... or simply go insane from the pain. I don't much care either way."

 _Right — put a cork in the smart-ass comments. Got it._

"Stand her up," he commanded, and two sets of hands pulled me up to my feet again, where I struggled to hold my wand and remain steady.

"Before we can duel, the first thing we must do is bow to each other," he said, bowing ever so slightly while I just stared incredulously at him. "I said, bow! _**Imperio!**_ _"_

I suddenly felt light-headed and very, very good. _"Bow to the great and powerful Voldemort,"_ came a voice in my head.

 _"Huh?"_

 _"Bow to the great and powerful Voldemort!"_

I looked around, wondering if the voice was outside my head, too. "Who are you?" I asked aloud.

 _"That doesn't matter! Just bow!"_

 _"Well, I guess I could... wait, why would I want to do that?"_ I shook my head violently, and the happy feelings all disappeared, making me realize that I had been under the Imperius curse. "I don't think so, Tall-and-Pasty!" I called out, diving to the side when he shot another torture curse at me. I quickly made my way behind a crypt, where I was faced with a decision: continue to fight as I was, or get in character?

"Get her," I heard him call out. "She went over there!"

Bruce always said that criminals were a cowardly and superstitious lot, and while he had been talking about muggles, I figured the same was probably true of wizards as well. I didn't even need to beat them all, just keep them busy until Bruce and Dick found me.

Decision made, I stripped off my outer robes, unfurled my cape, put on my gloves — the special weighted-knuckle gloves that had several ounces of lead dust stitched into the fingers — and pulled my cowl up over my head.

Showtime!

I leapt up to the top of the crypt and looked down at the Death Eaters, none of whom had noticed me yet as they tried to move sneakily in the direction they'd seen Amy Potter run.

"Hey, Snakeface!" I shouted, causing everyone to stop and stare in horror. "Yeah, I'm talking to you!"

" **What** did you call me?!" he hissed.

"Snakeface. It's a much scarier name than 'Voldemort.' I mean, only people who speak French know what that silly name means, and they are probably even less scared of 'Flight from Death.' It sounds like something a sixteen-year-old would come up with. Now _Snakeface_ is a strong name. Even those who know nothing about you will respect a name like that."

Why was I giving advice to him? Well, people can judge you by your enemies, and I didn't want to be laughed at by the other superheroes because my first arch-nemesis had an embarrassingly childish name. I'd never be able to live that down.

"Who are you, and where is Amy Potter?" he demanded, looking like he was about to lose his last shred of control. Apparently he didn't appreciate helpful advice from a teen girl. Go figure.

"Amy Potter," I said with a jerk of my head toward my former hiding place, "is recovering from that curse you sent at her. As for me..." I stepped forward to the edge of the crypt roof and adopted a menacing pose, unconscious imitating Bruce when he needed to intimidate someone. " **I'm... Batgirl**."

"Who?"

Grrrr... didn't these Brits know anything? "I said I'm Batgirl! My job is to get rid of snake-faced villains like you."

" **Kill her!** " said snake-faced villain screamed in fury.

I was ready for that and had several mini-batarangs in each hand before I somersaulted off the top of the crypt, a dozen curses just barely missing me. At least two were killing curses, and my knowledge of Latin suggested that the others included entrail expelling, organ rotting, and worse curses. I threw the mini-batarangs at Death Eater #5 and Death Eater #2. Each of the bat-shaped pieces of metal acted like a shuriken, embedding themselves in the men's wand arms and making them scream in pain. That put them out of the fight for a few minutes.

While the rest gaped in surprise, I tossed a couple of smoke pellets between us and Snakeface so he couldn't easily interfere, then did a few front handsprings to put myself in the middle of his minions. At this close range, in the middle of a group, they'd have to be idiots to start slinging spells and risk hitting each other, right?

As if on cue, they started casting wildly. Stupid wizards.

I dropped to the ground as soon as I heard one of them begin an incantation; half a second later, several curses passed over me, and at least some of them found a target, judging by the new cries of pain.

I levered myself up and immediately spun into a kick to the head of Death Eater #1. **ZOWIE!** He wasn't getting back up any time soon.

Someone large grabbed me from behind, so I lifted my legs and came down as hard as I could on both his feet, eliciting a high-pitched scream. **CRUNCH!** I **so** loved high heels at times like these.

"Foolish girl!" Death Eater #5 said to me as he returned to the fray. I was surprised at how aristocratic and... **familiar** his voice sounded. "I'm going to rip that silly mask off of you and shove it up your—"

 **KAPOW!** I hit him with a right uppercut, breaking his chin and sending him tipping backwards into the cauldron which Snakeface had crawled out of. He made a very satisfying splash.

"Silly mask?" I scoffed. "Like you should talk!"

 _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_ I heard Snakeface shout, and red light sped out of the cloud of smoke, just missing me and hitting Death Eater #6. I wasn't sure that he was even bothering to aim — it seemed like he was just casting randomly in the hope that he'd hit me. None of the others paid any attention to their screaming comrade, suggesting that this was probably a common occurrence for them.

Death Eaters #2 and #4 were nice enough to grab each of my arms, giving me the stability I needed to send a powerful high kick to the face of Death Eater #3. **CRACK!** I then flipped over, breaking their grip, but before I could take advantage of my freedom, I heard a _Bombarda!_ behind me and was slammed face-first into a tall grave marker. I didn't lose consciousness, but I definitely saw stars there for a moment. That was long enough for the still-standing Death Eaters to grab me again and drag me in front of Snakeface.

"You... are a most troublesome little girl," he said, seething in anger. "First I will find out who you really are. Then I will recapture the Potter girl, and you will join her in being tortured. Oh, yes, I think I will create a number of new and entertaining tortures for both of you as recompense for all the trouble you have caused me here tonight."

He stepped forward until he was right in front of me, and the Death Eaters on either side of me twisted my arms until I was forced to kneel on the ground and look up into his pasty-white face. "You will rue the day you decided to cross Lord Voldemort!" he declared triumphantly.

"Oh, I don't think so," I said, smiling up into the night sky behind him.

 **THUNK!** The Caped Crusaders dropped the last few yards from the lines they'd been descending from the silenced, hovering Batcopter, knocking Snakeface and his Death Eaters to the ground.

"Who **are** you people?" Voldemort demanded petulantly as he struggled to his feet.

Bruce struck a heroic pose and said, " **I'm... Batman.** "

"And I'm Robin, the Boy Wonder," Dick chimed in.

"Oh, for the love of—" Snakeface shouted, looking apoplectic now. "Just **kill** them! Kill them all!"

 **ZAP!** Batman took down a Death Eater with a right cross. **OOF!** Robin punched another Death Eater in the gut so hard that his feet actually lifted off the ground.

It was a truly epic brawl, one that I hoped to tell my grandkids about someday. Spells were flying everywhere, including some pretty nasty ones, but because of the close quarters, none of the Death Eaters had time to properly aim. More spells hit gravestones and other Death Eaters than hit us, and our Kevlar suits with armor inserts provided us with even more protection than we'd expected.

With three of us punching and kicking, it wasn't long before all of the Death Eaters were down for the count, leaving only Snakeface still standing.

"That's **enough**!" he cried out, pointing his wand at each of us in turn. "I've had quite enough of all three of you freaks! I don't know who you are or how you got here, but I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to track down that Potter bint and show her that she isn't as special as she imagines! _**Avada Ked—**_ _"_

 **CRUNCH!** Snakeface collapsed to the ground as though something heavy had fallen on him, surprising all three of us. Then there was a slight shimmering in the air and Hermione appeared, pulling off my father's invisibility cloak. "You... you..." she said, looking from one of us to the other as she stepped off of the prone body.

"Stupid little mud—"

 **CRACK!** Hermione's foot met Snakeface's... face, and her foot won.

"Shut up, this is important," she said testily. Turning back to us, she slowly stepped forward, looking at us through narrowed eyes. "You!" she said again, pointing at Batman. "I saw you! And you!" Now she was pointing at Robin. "I saw both of you, Bruce and Dick, and somehow you changed clothes! I don't know how you did it, and so quickly too, since you aren't magical, but you changed!"

"I don't know what you think you saw young lady, but we aren't this Bruce and Dick—"

"I **saw** you" she repeated, holding up and shaking the invisibility cloak. "Don't tell me that I didn't. I know who you are. I followed you and snuck into the back of that helicopter because I heard you talking. I heard you... you said you were going to..." She turned to face me now and whispered, "You were going to try to save Amy."

I brushed some of my red hair back behind my shoulder, hoping she wouldn't notice it. No such luck.

Slowly she walked up until she was only a couple of inches from me. She dropped my father's cloak to the ground and reached up, putting one hand on either side of my cowl.

I could have stopped her. I could have backed away, held her hands, or just said no. But I didn't.

I didn't want to.

She pushed my cowl back, revealing my face. "Amy?" she asked softly. "Are... are you really...?"

"Uh, hi?" I answered. "And, um, yeah."

 **GLOM!** Hermione leapt up, wrapped both arms and legs around me, and gave me the most intense, most mind-searing kiss ever.

It was also my first kiss ever, by the way, but I'm still sure that it ranked well above most other kisses the world has ever seen.

After what seemed like several minutes, she slowly pulled back and looked into my eyes.

"Wow," I said breathily.

"Yeah, wow. You, uh... you don't mind?"

I shook my head. "No, I think I liked it."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah. Though..."

"What?" Her expression started to shift from happiness to fear.

"I think maybe we should do that again, just to be sure."

Her smile was bright enough to light up all of Gotham, and the kiss that followed was probably better than the first. The fact that my hands, which had been wrapped around her waist in an effort to help hold her up, slipped down under her bum might have had something to do with that.

* * *

"Holy Island of Lesbos, Batman! I didn't know Batgirl swung that way. Should we do anything to stop them?"

"Certainly not, Robin." Bruce chided. "You know what they say: Different strokes for different folks. If she finds love and happiness in the arms of another woman, or even another witch, who are we to interfere? Who are we to say that she's wrong?"

"Gosh, you're right, Batman. Why didn't I think of that? Do you suppose I should go over and apologize?"

"Perhaps, old chum, but not right now. I think our partner in fighting crime will be... otherwise engaged for the foreseeable future. With a partner of her own."

"You've got a point, Batman. Um... shouldn't they have to come up for air by now?"

"Oh, Robin," Bruce said with a knowing smile. "You have much to learn. Yes, much to learn indeed. Perhaps I'll make a list... and give it to Fleur."

"What? No! Please, don't joke about that. That... that **was** a joke, wasn't it? Batman? Please?"

* * *

Will Fleur catch her Deek, or will he continue to shrink away from commitment? What will our bushy-haired bookworm do now that she knows the truth? Tune in next week — same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!

* * *

 **Omake:**

See Dick run. Run, Dick, run.

See Fleur chase Dick. Run, Dick, **run!**

See Fleur cast _Petrificus Totalis_.

See Dick stiffen. Ooh la la!

See Fleur smile...


	10. Crime Fighting Couple

**A/N:** Well, this is it, the final chapter! I think it's been as much fun for me to write this as it has (I hope) for the rest of you to read it. No sequels are currently planned, though they aren't impossible, either. Thanks to all of you who have favorited, followed, and reviewed. And of course, a special thanks goes out to Bonnie for helping to make this chapter better. If you have questions or concerns, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Do note the dates - this chapter starts out more than three years after the last one ended, then there is another large jump in the middle.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Batman, DC does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Gods Among Us" by arturus. HP/Battlestar Galactica crossover. After the war, Harry is helping Hermione explore an ancient tomb when they stumble upon a ship that takes them far, far from earth... and drops them near the Battlestar Galactica as its fleeing the Cylons. None of the refugees have ever seen anything like magic, but Harry and Hermione are used to being caught up in a prophecy... Wait, what? Another prophecy!? H/Hr. In progress.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

 **Special Note:** This final chapter is dedicated to the memory of Bobmin356, who passed away in his sleep yesterday morning. He and his wife Alyx wrote some great stories together - if you haven't read any of them recently, I urge you to do so. By all accounts, he enjoyed writing with his wife, so he'd probably like it if people continued to enjoy reading their works.

* * *

 **Chapter 10 - Crime Fighting Couple**

 **Gotham City. Late July, 1997.**

Not since I defeated Voldemort had I had so many villains arrayed against me.

"Hoo hoo hoo! With this plan of mine, we'll finally be able to capture those Caped Cruds!" The Joker was dancing around his fellow villains in joy, though only the Penguin seemed to share his good mood.

"And then we'll unmask them on live television this evening, exposing their secret identities to the entire world, wah wah wah!"

"Hee hee hee! And with today being the Fourth of July, that will make it our Independence Day - independence from meddlesome masked heroes, that is. I'm a **genius** of comic timing! Ha ha ha!"

In contrast to the other two, the Riddler was in a far more somber frame of mind. "If this plan is so good, then riddle me this: where are they? Why haven't they shown up? We've been holding those two over there hostage all day, and still no sign of Batman or the Boy Blunder!"

"Oh, quit your bellyaching!" the Joker said. "They'll be here. This plan is the best I've ever come up with."

I wouldn't have called it his "best" plan ever, but it was decent. The Joker had decided to welcome Hermione's arrival in Gotham City as The Bookworm by luring us to a bookbinding factory. The two of us were currently tied to a conveyer belt used for cutting and folding printed pages into books. If we weren't saved in time, we'd be transformed into Bat Books - Volume 1 and Volume 2.

For some reason, though, Batman and Robin were taking so long to get to us that we'd been returned to the start of the slow-moving conveyer belt three times already. It was getting tedious.

"And your plan is even better with me and the Riddler helping you!" the Penguin insisted, causing the Joker to huff like a diva. God, he could be even more of a drama queen than Snape! "You know it's true, wah!" the Penguin continued. "With my Goons and his Minions helping your Thugs, we have more than enough muscle here to overwhelm the dynamic duds. And since they don't know that the three of us are working together, they'll never expect to find so much opposition here when they arrive."

"He's got a point," Hermione whispered to me, and I nodded in agreement. Despite the boredom, I'd actually been pleased that Batman and Robin were taking so long to show up. I kept hoping to come up with some means to even the odds before they got here, but so far I hadn't been able to think of a thing.

"Well, we'll see," the Riddler grumbled.

Until now, that is. The Riddler was obviously the weak link in this criminal chain, and I knew just the way to break it. I'd been saving this for a special occasion, after all.

"Hey, Eddie!" I called out.

The Riddler whipped his head around to look at me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and surprise.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Eddie. I've been meaning to pass along a message to you."

"And what sort of message would you have for me, Bat Brat?" he demanded.

"Riddle me this: what has the body of a lion, the face of a woman, and **very** unusual dietary requirements?"

The Riddler crossed the room and was in my face so fast that he might as well have apparated. The look on his face now was sheer disbelief and fear as he said, "You didn't… you couldn't have met…."

"Fatima?" I asked. "Black hair, black eyes, huge... tracts of land? Sure, I met her. Very nice... lady. We were both surprised to have a mutual acquaintance in you." I watched his adam's apple bob as he gulped, then I twisted the knife a little more: "She misses you, by the way. In fact, she's positively **starving** to see you again."

"Don't you mean 'dying' to see him?" Hermione asked.

"Hush, Bookworm, or I'll cancel your library card!"

Seriously, Hermione has the **cutest** pout ever.

"No, I meant 'starving,'" I insisted with a toothy smile.

"What did you tell her?" the Riddler demanded, starting to sound a little shrill. "Tell me!"

"Oh, I told her all about you, Gotham City... Arkham Asylum," I answered. "To be quite honest, I'm surprised that she and her friends haven't shown up yet."

"Friends?" he squeaked.

I nodded. "Fatima said they have lots and lots of new riddles to ask you, Eddie. They're **so** looking forward to seeing if you can answer them all."

The Riddler once again did his version of apparition, appearing suddenly on the other side of the room, where he grabbed his green hat and coat. "Sorry, guys, I, uh... just remembered an important appointment I have to get to. In, uh... Borneo."

"Borneo?" the Joker asked in confusion.

"Minions! Let's go!" In moments, the Riddler and a third of the bad guys were gone.

"Borneo?" the Joker said again, looking at the Penguin. "I don't get it. What's the punch line?"

"I don't think it's a joke," the Penguin said, frowning.

"Oh... well, it doesn't matter. Without him, there's more glory for the two of us. Ha ha ha!" The Joker seemed to get his confidence back pretty quickly. The Penguin nodded in agreement, but his eyes told a different story.

Once Hermione and I were moved back to the start of the conveyer belt for the fourth time (which was starting to feel a bit like having a time turner again!), she turned towards me looking quite exasperated. "Does this happen to you very often?"

"Not the boring repeats so much," I answered, "but being taken hostage? Yeah, more often than you'd think."

"Ugh! I can't believe that I endured months of brutal training from Dick for this. For **this**! I be could be on a beach in France with my parents right now!"

"They went to the beach?" I asked. "I didn't know that."

"Yes. A nude beach."

"Nude?" I could feel my cheeks heating up. Did people really do that?

"Sure, we often go to St. Tropez in the summer. It was just my bad luck that they scheduled their vacation for the time I'd already arranged to be here. Bored out of my mind. And the fact that they're managing to bore me, a book lover, in a bookbinding factory is just adding insult to injury!"

"You've been there before? Nude? As in, without clothing? In **public**?" I felt the heat spreading well beyond my cheeks now as I imagined Hermione naked under the sun on a beach of white sand….

"Mm-hm." she answered. "But instead of enjoying the sun - and the sights - I'm stuck here!"

I sighed as I struggled to get my hormones back under control again. I had known that this conversation would have to happen eventually, but the circumstances certainly could have been better. "Actually," I said slowly, "I need to come clean: Robin and I switch week to week who gets captured. Why do you think he wears a bright yellow and red costume that screams 'target'? You should see what they wanted **me** to wear at first. Sparkly, glittery purple was the **tamest** thing I could talk them into."

Hermione's outraged expression froze for a moment as she looked me over carefully. "I don't think I've ever said, but... it does look good on you."

"Really? You think?" I'd always worried about whether I looked good in my costume, but the only people I could ever ask were Bruce, Dick, and Alfred, none of whom were exactly experts on girls' fashion. Don't even get me started on the disaster of a conversation we once had about makeup.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione reassured me. "Purple is definitely your color."

"Thanks!" I suddenly felt a lot better about myself.

"Anyway, what you told me just doesn't make any sense!"

"What, that we trade places in who gets captured? It actually does," I explained. "If they know they can capture us, they focus on us instead of innocent civilians. We play bait, the civilians stay safe."

That forced Hermione to stop and think for a moment as the conveyer belt trudged along. "I... I guess I can understand that. It's not that much different from putting yourself between some immediate threat and an innocent civilian. So, I have this to look forward to every week?"

"Every other week, technically, but yeah, pretty much."

Hermione sighed in resignation. "You're lucky you're so good in bed. I wouldn't put up with this for just anyone, you know."

"Nah, you'd never leave me," I said confidently.

"How do you know that?" she asked, arching one eyebrow.

"Simple: because there aren't any other parselmouths." I then imagined a snake and hissed, opening my mouth enough to ensure that my vibrating tongue was easily visible.

Now it was Hermione's turn to flush - and if I was right, it went pretty far down. "Do we actually have to wait for Batman?" she asked in a husky voice.

"I dunno. Part of the point is, you know, to build anticipation."

Hermione craned her neck to look around the room, filled with equally bored bad guys, then turned back to me. "We can either listen to these two villains rant and rave for however long it takes the Dynamic Duo to rescue us, or we can..." She leaned closer and started to whisper in my ear.

It's been said that a person's most important sex organ is their brain. And Hermione's brain is... big. Really big.

Size **does** matter.

* * *

 _A little less than an hour later..._

The doors to the factory burst open as Batman and Robin charged in heroically.

"Cease and desist, evildoers!" Batman called out. "If you give up now, we promise that things will go easier on you with the police."

"Holy fallen dominoes, Batman, look at everyone! They're all unconscious."

"They're more than that, Robin," Batman said as he knelt down next to a Goon. "Judging by the cuts and bruises on this poor man, he was involved in a horrific fight. And lost."

"Maybe the all turned against each other?" Robin suggested.

"Unlikely, Robin, look!" Batman said, pointing to where the Joker and the Penguin were unconscious, wrapped in rope, and hanging upside down, slowly spinning.

"Holy hanging sides of beef, Batman! They've been beaten worst of all. What happened to them?"

"The more important question, Robin, is what happened to Batgirl and Bookworm?"

"You're right, I don't see them anywhere."

"Don't use your eyes, Robin. Instead... use your ears."

As silence fell, both could hear low, desperate moaning that seemed to be coming from a door on the far side of the room.

"There!" Batman exclaimed. "Whatever fiend did all of this is now torturing poor, defenseless Batgirl and Bookworm! Quick, Robin, there's not a second to waste!" They raced across the room to save their comrades, but just before they reached the door, they heard a scream that echoed throughout the factory:

"Yes! Yes! Sweet Baby Maeve!"

Batman and Robin froze in shock for several long moments, having absolutely no idea what to do next.

Finally, Robin broke the silence by whispering, "Holy Sapphic Climax, Batman! I **told** you we didn't have time to stop to sign autographs."

Batman shifted his feet uncomfortably when he answered, "I suppose you're right, old chum. It seems that our curvy crime-fighting partner truly has a partner of her own, now." He stopped to wipe a tear from his mask before saying in a tremulous voice, "They grow up so fast."

"Don't worry Batman," Robin responded, putting his hand on his mentor's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

Just then, a tall, voluptuous blonde wearing an extremely small number of strategically-placed white feathers and little else came running into the factory. "Zere you are! You ran away zo fast, I 'ad trouble keeping up!" She grimaced and reached down to ease a strap on her sparkly high heels.

"Sorry about that, Firebird," Batman replied. "We were running late in rescuing Batgirl and Bookworm."

"Where are zey?"

Firebird's question was almost immediately answered by a different but familiar voice crying out from behind the closed door: "Oh! Oh! Right there! Oh! Oh, **yes**!"

"Ah, zat eez where zey are." She then leaned over and began to twirl a finger in Robin's hair as she looked down the front of his costume. "Hmmm... zat gives me all zorts of ideas, Beeg Boy."

"Oh, boy," Robin breathed out, sounding more than a little tired.

"I 'ave been finding myself very lonely for Deek," she said. "And I will not 'ave much time to play with Deek when Gabrielle comes to visit."

"But that's not for another month!"

"Zen we 'ave not ze time to waste!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and heading for another door.

"Well, I can see I'm no longer needed here," Batman declared. "Back to the Batcave!"

"Batman?" Robin called out desperately... but not **too** desperately. "Batman!"

* * *

 **Diagon Alley. December 31, 1999.**

 _The witches and wizards scurrying in the rain below me are completely oblivious to the dangers that lurk in the shadows of their neat, orderly existence. Diagon Alley appears safe during the day, but the rot and corruption are never far below the surface, always threatening to burst forth and consume any innocents unlucky enough to be caught in their path._

 _The rain coming down on me is like a baptism. I am Batgirl, yet I am also a witch. I have been reborn, a new hero for a magical world. I am…._

"What are you doing?"

I jumped in surprise, not having realized that Hermione had returned.

"What are you doing?" she asked again. "I've been back for several minutes already, watching you just stand there, looking off into the distance."

"Umm..."

"Where you running an internal monologue again?" she demanded, her fists on her hips.

"Yes?" I answered weakly.

"Honestly! You **know** dark and broody doesn't fit you. I get that you want to differentiate yourself from Bruce and Dick, but sometimes you take it too far."

"Sorry," I mumbled sheepishly. "It just happens sometimes…."

"Never mind," she said with a sigh as she stepped up next to me at the edge of the roof. "Anything going on here?"

"Nothing new. How was your patrol?"

"I found Dung, but he didn't have anything for us."

"Nothing at all about that gang we've been hearing whispers about?" I asked.

She shook her head, looking worried. "I left Igor there to watch him for a while longer, though, just in case he was holding back."

"I'll bet Igor didn't like that."

"That's putting it mildly. He actually hissed at me!" Hermione complained.

"I'll talk to him. It was a good idea."

There was a long silence while we each contemplated the potential danger being posed by the new Dark Arts gang. Everything we'd heard so far about them was bad, but we hadn't been able to find out anything but vague rumors. We couldn't afford to ignore them, though, because I was certain that they would be our first real challenge as magical crime fighters. Wizarding Britain's underworld had been in disarray ever since Voldemort and some of his top lieutenants had been shoved through the Veil of Death.

Minister Fudge, outraged that the Dark Lord had dared come back and threaten to ruin his peaceful existence, had decided to sweep the entire thing under the rug by getting rid of them all. Permanently. No bodies, no evidence, no problems, at least in Fudge's mind. Luckily Amelia Bones was one of those in the know and forced him to pardon Sirius before Pettigrew was eliminated.

So Voldemort was gone, unless you listened to Dumbledore. I had heard through the grapevine that the old wizard continued to insist that Voldemort had somehow survived, though he apparently wasn't explaining how or why. His stubbornness on the issue had created such a rift between him and the Ministry that he lost all his positions except Headmaster of Hogwarts, and even that was tenuous. Fortunately he hadn't tried to drag me into his issues; the last time we met, he simply looked at my forehead, frowned, and walked away muttering.

It's a pity that he had wasted his political capital on chasing ghosts instead of trying to improve society. Both after Voldemort's first "death" and after his second (and hopefully final) death, neither he nor anyone else had tried to make changes to deal with the conditions that had made him and his movement possible in the first place. As a result, wizarding Britain was sliding deeper and deeper into decay.

"They'll make a mistake eventually," I said. "Then we'll take them down."

"Do you still think that former Death Eaters are involved?" she asked.

I nodded. Some of Voldemort's old followers had gotten away and were unaccounted for, including Lucius Malfoy, who hadn't been seen by anyone since the battle in the graveyard.

"Then we'll just keep looking," Hermione said. "At least this means we get some extra free time on New Year's Eve, though."

"You want to head back in this early?" I asked. "We've barely done anything."

Hermione leaned in close and whispered, "I'll put on that Catwoman outfit you got me for Christmas..."

I shivered, feeling that familiar stirring in my utility belt again. It definitely wasn't the fish, either. "Mmm, tempting. But I'd like to do one more sweep of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley before calling it a night - I mean, if that's OK?" I said, unwilling to go home **too** early, but also very anxious to see how Hermione planned on using that gift.

That big brain of hers could be **very** creative.

"OK," she said. "Say, that reminds me, did you ever hear back from Gotham about the Christmas gifts we sent?"

"Oh, yeah, I completely forgot to tell you about that. Bruce says that Fleur hasn't let Dick out of her room since Christmas Day. He hasn't dared open the door to check himself - apparently being on the receiving end of her fireballs once was more than enough for him. So he wrote and demands that we explain what it was we sent her."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Really? I'm surprised that someone like her didn't already have a copy of the Magical Kama Sutra." I simply shrugged. "Has Dick figured out how much you've been helping her?" she asked.

"Not as far as I know," I answered with a smirk.

"Oh, you minx!"

"Deek needs a woman with a firm hand," I said, mangling Fleur's accent. "I should know, I grew up with him."

"Well, I'm sure Fleur will keep him pointed in the right direction," Hermione agreed. "Ready to do our last sweep... before heading home? Dobby will have cookies and hot chocolate waiting for us. Then we can do... other things." She ran a single finger teasingly down the front of my chest.

I nodded and smiled, very much looking forward to what she had in mind, but forcing myself to keep my head in the game. Just because everything looked quiet right now didn't mean that the streets were safe.

 _Beware, evildoers! Batgirl and Bookworm are on the prowl!_

* * *

 _Meanwhile, in Hogsmeade…._

"Report, Shack," Amelia Bones ordered. As head of the DMLE, she wouldn't normally be called out to a crime scene, especially not on New Year's Eve, but this one was different.

This one was much, much worse than normal.

"It's a mess, Madam Bones," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, looking and sounding more tired than she could ever remember. "I've never seen anything like it. Everyone in the Hogshead who was celebrating New Year's Eve has been cursed, and pretty badly, too. They should all make it, but... I don't think they'll ever be the same."

"Can't the healers counter the curses?"

"No one recognizes the spell used. It's unlike anything they've ever seen. People's faces have been twisted into horrible, mocking grins... they're almost unrecognizable now. I'm not sure it wouldn't have been kinder to have just killed them all."

"Any indications of who did it?

"No, ma'am," Shacklebolt said. "The only piece of evidence is this." He held out an evidence bag with what looked like a card with writing on it.

"A tarot card?" she asked, holding it up and examining it by the light of her wand.

He nodded. "The Fool. It was stuck to the bar with a cursed knife. On the back someone wrote the words, 'Our journey begins.'"

"What in Merlin's name is going on here, Shack?"

"I wish I knew, ma'am, but I've got a bad feeling about this…."

* * *

 **A/N:** The "Beeg Boy" line is a reference to fact that Burt Ward, while short of stature, was "blessed" in other ways. So blessed, in fact, that the Catholic League of Decency forced ABC to do something about the large bulge that was always visible when he wore his tights.


End file.
